Exchanges
by Mythrandiel
Summary: A Legolas romance, just because I know you love them! Arwen has to go to Mirkwood to meet Legolas, her prospective husband, but she loves Aragorn, so switches places with her handmaiden. What will happen? Will they be discovered? Who knows? (well...I do!)
1. Chapter1

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine, and everything else is mine! Nah, just joking. Everything is Tolkien's!

A/N: I can't believe I have done this…. I can't believe I've written a Legomance. But there you are, I suppose I just had to get it out of my system, and I have just been ogling pictures of Orlando Bloom for the past hour, so maybe that's why. Oh and you have to take into account artistic license here: we are just assuming that Thranduil and his family have never met Arwen before, ok? So please read and review, or even flame if you must, because frankly I think it's pretty crappy as well!

Muttering lightly under her breath, Alarien paced quickly round her chamber. Sunlight streamed through the open window, filling the small room with pleasant warmth and golden light. The chamber was shaped like a half moon, with the curved side facing out into the beautiful forest. Melodious singing reached her ears, but it did nothing to disperse her distracted mood. Marching over to the window, she flung the shutters even further open and leaned out, breathing in the warm, fragrant air. Gazing out into the lush forests of Lothlórien could not fail to calm anyone and she gradually succumbed to its relaxing aura. As she rested there, the singing once more caught her attention and she pushed her hair behind her delicately pointed ears to hear it all the better. The voices were beautiful and sweet and the words and melodies full of joy. She began to hum along; it was a song she knew well, and one of her favourites. In her opinion, the elves of Lothlórien had the most perfect voices of all her kind, calming and tender yet full of emotion and feeling. She didn't expect to find such singing in the dark forests of Mirkwood. Alarien had no desire to leave Lothlórien, it was at its most beautiful this time of year. The autumn was just arriving, and though the air was still warm, the leaves on the trees were turning golden, contrasting with the silvery grey of the trunks to provide a dazzling vision to the onlooker. She sighed, whether or not she wanted to leave Lothlórien, she had no choice, her mistress, the Lady Arwen, grand-daughter of the Lady Galadriel, daughter of Elrond, the Lord of Rivendell was making the journey to Northern Mirkwood, to meet the son of the Elf-King Thranduil, a possible husband. Alarien did not hold much hope for this prince, rumour had reached the woods of Lothlórien that he was an aloof, arrogant soul, with less humility and more self-involvement than might be hoped for. She knew that these rumours had reached Arwen, and that she had certainly come to the same conclusion as herself. Besides, she had a suspicion that Arwen had already fallen for another, although she did not know it could be. But she could sense that something was definitely different about her, she seemed to laugh and smile a great deal more, if that was possible. She and her mistress were life-long friends, having grown up together, but there were still many corners of Arwen's soul that Alarien did not know of. She remembered the way Arwen had scolded her when she had addressed her as 'my Lady'. _Don't be silly, Alarien_, she had said, _I am always Arwen to you_! The singing below her had dispersed into happy laughter and she laughed too. Having thought about it, it would be nice to spend some time alone with her mistress, it had been a while since they had talked, Arwen had recently been residing with her father at Rivendell, but had returned to Lothlórien only a few days before. Without her mistress to wait upon, Alarien had passed her days mostly in solitude, wandering the paths of the forests, singing to herself and re-immersing herself into it. She straightened up from the window ledge and turned to leave her chamber. It would soon be time to prepare Arwen's hair for dinner. As she opened her door she came face to face with the beautiful face of the Lady. A smile spread across Alarien's lips until she took in the worried expression that resided on Arwen's face. She quickly moved aside to let her into the room. Despite the tense mood she was presently in, Arwen appeared more to glide than walk as she entered the room. Even as she stood still, she possessed an elegant grace and fluidity of movement that surpassed even that of her fair kindred. She spoke, and her voice was soft and melodious.

"Alarien, I have want of your counsel." Surprised and a little worried, Alarien motioned for Arwen to sit down beside her on her bed.

"But of course, dear friend. What is it that troubles you so?"

"It is this business about Mirkwood." _Ahhh_, thought Alarien. _I think I know where this is leading._

"I know what it is that you refer to, but why should that cause you concern. Should it not be a joyful occasion?" At this Arwen raised her delicate eyebrows. She suspected Alarien knew or had guessed more than she was hinting at, but decided to continue.

"You may well say that it should be joyful Alarien, and indeed it should be, but for the circumstances. I do not wish to leave Lothlórien to travel to the dark forests of Mirkwood to meet some arrogant prince who thinks more of his reflection than of anyone else." She paused slightly before continuing. "And there is also an added problem. I have pledged my heart to another, and I do not wish to find a suitor, for I am in love with one already." She waited for Alarien to say something, but she appeared to be thinking.

"But Arwen, why do you not just tell your father about it? He will understand, as long as this other elf is worthy of you."

"Well that is just it, Alarien. Prince Legolas and I have been intended for many years. My father believes that our union will be a happy and joyful one that will unite the two realms." She smirked, "obviously he has not heard the rumours we have!"

"But who is this elf to which you refer? Who do you love?"

"I do not love an elf, but a mortal man. Aragorn, son of Arathorn. Heir of Isildur and the rightful claimant to the throne of Gondor." Alarien remembered him clearly. She had met him a few years ago when he had come to Lothlórien accompanied by the wizard Gandalf. He had not originally intended to linger, but had gone on to stay many months. She had thought it was just the beauty of the forest that had made him stay, but now she knew better. He was a tall man, very fair of face, almost comparable to the fairest of her kindred. Like Arwen, and Elrond, and the Lord and Lady Celeborn and Galadriel, he possessed a kingly presence and aura. He was wise, strong and powerful, just and true. However, in one respect, he could never compare to her kind. He did not possess the elven immortality. In order to wed him, Arwen would have to sacrifice her immortality like her ancestor Lùthien. It would be a hard and bitter choice. As she looked into Arwen's eyes, she saw that she had been following her train of thought, and that her deep blue eyes were clouded with worry.

"I am unsure of what to say to you, Arwen. It is a harsh and bitter choice that you will have to make. I now understand why you choose not to inform your father. He would hate to see you leave him. This then begs the question. What are we to do?" Arwen thought for several moments. She got up and walked to the window. She breathed in deeply the scented air of the forest and searched for a solution to her problems. Suddenly she turned round and hurried over to where Alarien sat watching her on the bed. Sitting down next to her she clasped her hands in her own and looked deep into her friend's eyes.

"You must take my place Alarien!" She stared at her for a moment, not understanding what she was getting at. Impatiently, Arwen continued. "You were going to accompany me to Mirkwood anyway, but now, you shall go as me, and I as you!"

"But…but…Arwen, I couldn't possibly deceive both the King and his son. They would guess anyway, you are such a legendary beauty. They would see you and compare us and all would be discovered. There is sure to be some elves who have travelled to Lothlórien and seen you!"

"I? A legendary beauty? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder Alarien, and anyone that beheld you would see beauty indeed." She could see her friend was not convinced so she added, "But yes, I could be recognised, so I will wear a hooded cloak to make certain."

"But…but…"Alarien tailed off, it seemed that Arwen would not take no for an answer.

"If you would do this for me, I should be forever indebted to you, dear friend. I know not what else there is I can do." Emotion filled her eyes and Alarien knew she would have to help her.

"I will help you, dearest Arwen. But what do I say to the Prince? I have no wish to get to know an elf such as he." Arwen's eyes filled with gratitude and she squeezed her friend's hands before she answered.

"You say little, or nothing. Be aloof. You do not like him, and do not wish him to like you, I presume, so just speak little and only occasionally. Appear to be disinterested. It will be fine I promise."

"I trust you dear friend." Alarien paused, then a sparkle entered her eyes, "So tell me about Aragorn!"
    
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It was now a week since their plan had been hatched and the preparations were almost complete for the trip to Mirkwood. It was almost a week's journey there and it had first been decided that a group of archers would accompany them to Mirkwood. However, Arwen had insisted it was not necessary, as King Thranduil had promised to send an envoy to accompany them from outside the boundaries, as it was not safe in the forests alone.

And now they were almost ready. Alarien was not afraid to admit that she was scared of the part she would have to play, and of discovery, but Arwen seemed positive that all would be well. She almost felt convinced. Tomorrow, she and Arwen would leave the safety and beauty of Lothlórien and travel to the dark and sinister Mirkwood where goodness knows what would await them. She sighed and began to prepare for bed, braiding her long hair into a plait that hung down her head. As she looked at her reflection, she couldn't help but wonder what the Prince would think of her. To her mind, no one could ever compare to the beauty of Lady Arwen, and there was truth in this, but she was indeed immensely fair of face although she did not have the luminescence that Arwen seemed to possess. Unlike her mistress, Alarien had green eyes, deep and emerald, like the leaves of Lothlórien. Her hair was of the darkest brown, like the earth after the rain. Where Arwen was of the sky and stars, Alarien was of the forests and earth. She was slender and tall and shapely, and graceful in her movement like her mistress, but her countenance was timid and shy, and she was not so happy in the company of strangers. However, Alarien saw none of this, she saw only her own face, as fair as the rest of her kind, but nothing more. She turned away and got into her bed, she had a long journey ahead and it would be wise to rest as much as she could.

A/N: So there you go! Love it or hate it? If you loved it, have a look at my other story 'There is only one' which I think is way better than this one, but never mind. It's an Elrohir/OC romance sideline, but it actually has a cool plot and everything! 


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

Arwen awoke to the familiar sound of the birds singing. She lay in her bed for several minutes before she got up, listening to the intricate patterns of sound they wove as they flew through the air. The sunlight shone through the window and touched her face, and her skin seemed to glow ethereally. Mentally, Arwen readied herself for the journey she was to begin that day. Sighing, she got up and dressed. As she waited for Alarien to come and fix her hair into something suitable for riding, she thought of Aragorn. How her whole being ached for him. His words. His touch. Arwen knew that here was no longer any choice for her. She would rather live one life with him, than in eternity without him. But as Alarien had said, it was a bitter path to choose. There was much she would have to forsake. But she was willing, so strong was her love for this king among men.

The opening of the door interrupted her thoughts and she looked up to Alarien coming in. She smiled as her friend closed the door behind her and held out her delicate, long-fingered hand for her to take.

"Are you ready my friend?"

"I am ready" Alarien replied. Skilfully she pinned her mistress's hair, deftly tucking and braiding the soft, almost black hair. With her sparkling sapphire blue eyes, Arwen's face was indeed like a star in the soft, black velvet of the sky. Finishing her task, Alarien straightened up and caught Arwen's eye.

Together they walked through the halls and out into the courtyard where two beautiful white horses were waiting for them. Although laden with luggage and food, the horses stood tall and strong. As the elves approached, they whinnied in greeting. Each going to their particular horse, Arwen and Alarien stroked their noses and whispered sweet elven words in their ears.

They looked up to see Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel waiting to see them off. The parting was quick, Arwen did not wish to linger, for she wanted to reach shelter by nightfall. Galloping quickly, the two elves posed a beautiful sight as they raced through the golden trees. After some minutes, they moved out of the woods into the open sky. Alarien immediately felt a desire to turn around and canter straight back, but she knew she could not.

Facing her gaze to the horizon before them, she took a deep breath and began to think about what lay ahead.
    
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The day passed by quickly, the hooves of the horses eating up the ground as they cantered and trotted across the grassy plains. They spoke intermittently together to pass the time, sometimes singing for their own pleasure, their sweet, harmonious voices rising up crystal clear into the air above and around them, so that birds nearby stopped their own singing to listen. They stopped to eat once, when the sun was high in the sky, supplementing the dried fruit, bread, cheese and salted meat with a few wafers of lembas, elvish way bread. It was an amiable meal, although short, and the horses seemed glad of the rest. As they remounted, Alarien thought how much she enjoyed riding with the warm sun on her back and the blue sky all around. She enjoyed the feel of the wind in her face and running through her hair and she knew instinctively the joy the horses were feeling to be running on such a day, with such light burdens. For indeed, the horses barely felt their weight, and the packages contained no heavy items. In the tradition of their kindred, neither elf rode with saddle, bridle or reins. They simply connected with the horse, their bodies moving in the same motions, their hands lightly holding the flowing white manes. Afternoon turned to dusk and dusk to evening. By the time the first stars had appeared, they had found shelter. A small clearing in a copse by the road they were following. There was a small, sparkling stream running through it from which they could refill their water skins. They tethered the horses and made up a small fire, not very skilfully it must be said, as neither was used to the task. Taking it in turns to watch, the long bows and arrows they had been furnished with, prior to their departure, near to hand, their short elven swords glinting at their belts. The night passed quickly and without event.
    
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The rest of the journey passed in much the same way and soon they could see the forests of Mirkwood in the far distance. The main body of the forest did not begin for some distance, but there were small outcrops close by. They decided not to enter until they had met their escort; there were fell things rumoured to live in the forests of Mirkwood. Seeing the forest before her, Alarien began to grow homesick for Lothlórien. She was disappointed to be missing the forest in its autumn glory, but she quickly pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind. As they began to near the first of the wooded outcrops there was still no sign of the escort. Arwen had already however, put on her hooded cloak, her beautiful face hidden in its shadow. She had also already made Alarien place on her head the silver circlet that she herself usually wore.

In the quiet stillness Alarien began to daydream in the elvish fashion, eyes open and alert, but mind elsewhere. Suddenly in the midst of her thought she became aware of a foul scent on the air and many presences nearby. She pulled up her horse and looking over at Arwen, saw that she had noticed the same thing. They had ridden between two of the wooded outcrops which had narrowed as they road, closing in on either side the further in they got. It was darker, although the afternoon had not yet reached dusk. 

The air had a chill to it and Alarien drew her cloak closer around her. The scent on the air grew stronger and out of the corner of her eye she saw Arwen pull her bow off her shoulder and notch an arrow to its string. She copied her motions and loosened her sword in its scabbard. Silently they waited, slowly easing their horses back, away from the scent, which the horses had by now picked up. Their ears flattened and they whinnied softly. Alarien learned forward and whispered some calming words in elven into her horse's ear. All around them was quiet but suddenly they detected movement on both sides. Alarien looked down at her sword and saw the visible part glowing a bright blue. She looked at Arwen in alarm:

"Orcs!" Suddenly from all sides there came the foul creatures. There was about fifteen of them, disgusting, large, strong and well armed. The elves' retreat had been swift, but not enough and soon they were surrounded. The orcs around them advanced slowly, speeding up when Alarien and Arwen loosed a few deadly arrows into their hordes. Panic overtaking them, the elves tried to retreat, firing arrows to clear a path of escape, but the orcs had the advantage of numbers that were a match even for the deadly accuracy of the skilled archers. The closest orcs were nearly upon them, and one caught at Arwen's cloak and was dragging her off her horse.

"Alarien! Help me!" She screamed. Not really knowing what else to do, Alarien shouted some incantations in high-elven. The words seemed to frighten the orcs and they backed off a bit. But soon they realised they could win this battle and they began to advance again. One orc broke away from the main group and stole up behind Alarien who was busy cutting through the orcs in front of her, her sword flashing as it swung and cut through the rancid orc flesh. Just as the orc prepared to leap up and swing at Alarien with its stubby axe, it fell dead, an arrow through its throat. Arwen had seen it just in time. However, once again the numbers overcame them and the orcs began to drag them off their horses. Arwen and Alarien carried on fighting valiantly, but hope seemed lost. Their quivers were empty and their bows redundant. They were relying on their swords. Alarien was almost on the ground when the first arrow flew through the air and into the back of the orc closest to her. Suddenly, from all sides, arrows flew with fatal aim, the orcs dropping dead around them. Where they were coming from she couldn't see. Looking over at Arwen, Alarien saw the orc pulling her off her horse fall dead, and she pulled herself back onto her horse. Alarien however was just regaining her own seat when an orc leapt on her from behind and the momentum threw them both onto the ground. The orc landed on top of her, an arrow in its chest, but as she fell, her head hit a stone. Burning pain filled her head before she spiralled out of consciousness, the weight and stench of the orc suffocating her.
    
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Two days passed and still Alarien did not wake up. The elves tending to her assured Arwen that she would wake up soon, the healing plants that they used had a slight sedative effect. Arwen could not shake off the worry, although she knew Alarien would be fine. She had just lost consciousness due to the knock to her head and the suffocating effect of the fallen orc. She was immensely indebted to the Mirkwood elves, for it had been their archers who had arrived only just in time to help them. They had found Alarien, or Arwen, as they now believed her to be, and carried her gently into the forest and into the palace of the king. Arwen herself had been far too distraught to take much notice of their rescuers although in the days that had followed, she had come across many and found them to be not dissimilar to the elves of Lothlórien. They were fair and pleasant, although in appearance they tended to be paler, with hair the colour of golden wheat. As she entered Alarien's chamber on the third day she found that there was more colour in her cheeks than there had been and she had a feeling that soon she would soon wake up. She decided to wait and sat by her bedside, softly singing to her friend.
    
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A/N: Please review and tell me what you think, even if you hate it! But if you flame, try to be constructive rather than just plain rude! 


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

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Blinking painfully, Alarien opened her eyes, but cried out in pain at the bright light. Her whole head ached with a dull pain. She noticed a shadow move in front of the window and pull in the shutters. She opened her eyes fully and saw it was Arwen, judging by the grace of movement, as she was still wearing her hooded cloak. Alarien smiled to see her friend well, she couldn't really remember what had happened, and suddenly she noticed her surroundings. She was lying in a square chamber, its one window facing out over the forest. The room was cool and lightly but elegantly furnished. A thin, almost-transparent white curtain, spotted here and there with an embroidered star in silver cotton, shrouded her bed. There was a door opposite her bed, which she assumed led to Arwen's chamber, as the main door was to the left. Turning, Arwen saw her sit up and rub at her head. 

"Dear friend. I was so worried about you. You were on your horse one minute, and the next, you were gone. I thought you had been captured, but then I saw your hand lying on the ground. It was the only bit I could see, the rest of you was under that orc.

I came in to see if you had awoken yet, as they had said you would. If I am going to be you, I am going to do it properly!"

"Arwen, you speak of they, but who is it that you refer to?"

"Why, the Mirkwood elves. We are greatly in their debt my friend, for it was their arrows that saved us from the orcs. It was them who carried you here and tended to you so skilfully. Indeed, they have helped us immensely." She sat down and began to bathe Alarien's head with warm water infused with a healing plant. The water was fragrant and eased the pain greatly. The cut she had suffered on the side of her head had almost healed, and thanks to the skill of the elven doctors, it would leave no scar.

"Do you think yourself well enough to perhaps get up today? Or perhaps you would like to remain in bed, Lady Arwen?" She smiled as Alarien shot her a disapproving look. "From now on, in the company of others, you will address me as Alarien, and I will refer to you as Lady Arwen." She drew her hood more tightly around her face and turned to the window as she heard light footsteps approaching the chamber. An elf-maiden entered, she was small for her kind, yet still slender, and her honey coloured hair hung in a braid down her back. She performed a graceful curtsey to a surprised Alarien who was sitting up in her bed.

"Will the Lady Arwen be rising today? The King wishes to know so that he may prepare for a celebration to welcome you properly to Mirkwood." Her voice was pleasant and soft. Alarien smiled at her and replied:

"Yes, thank you. I will indeed be rising today. I should very much like to take a short walk into the woods, for it has been many days since I have seen a forest."

"Yes my Lady." The elf curtseyed again and left the room, closing the door behind her. As the door closed, Arwen turned back from the window.

"I think it best of I do not accompany you today. I have other business to attend to, as well as finding out as much about Prince Legolas as I can. Much as I hate to admit it, I am curious to see if the rumours are true or not!" She saw Alarien looking doubtful so she continued. "Besides, handmaidens do not accompany their mistresses everywhere." Alarien smiled and watched as Arwen left her alone to get dressed. She knew that Arwen was right; they didn't want to draw too much attention to themselves. She flung back the covers and swung her long, slender legs over the side of the bed.

She had been dressed in a soft, white nightgown and it swished against her calves as she walked over to her chair where a gown had been laid out for her. It was of a bright leafy green that brought out her eyes and its silver thread contrasted beautifully with her dark hair. She put it on and sat in front of the mirror and carefully brushed her silky hair. Lastly she placed the silver circlet on her head. The gown was so becoming to her natural beauty that nobody who saw her would guess that she wasn't the legendary beauty that she was pretending to be. She slid her feet into the silver slippers that someone, possibly the elf that had come in just before, had put out for her. Taking a deep breath, she left the chamber.

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Prince Legolas was not well pleased. He paced quickly round his chamber, reflecting on the events of the past few days. He could not possibly fathom how their visitors could have gained a positive first impression of Mirkwood. The escort his father had promised had arrived later than planned and subsequently left the two elf-maidens almost completely defenceless against the band of orcs that had waylaid them. They had arrived only just in time before something worse had happened. As it was, the Lady Arwen had been injured and had not yet awoken, although the elf-healers had assured him that she would soon be well. Legolas suspected that he knew why the escort had been late. His younger brother, Landir had been in charge, and the prince knew that his jealous brother would do anything to make him look bad. Legolas sighed, he knew he shouldn't jump to such conclusions, but having endured endless years of the almost constant snide remarks from his brother, it now just tired him. It troubled him to know that, without knowing it, he had given his brother some reason to hate him.

Walking over to his window, he looked out into the forests. He breathed in the cool air of the forest and exhaled slowly. Legolas was not so happy about meeting his prospective bride either. Rumour had reached him of a vain, selfish maiden. Although he knew better than to form an opinion based on rumours, he couldn't help but think there must be some reason or truth in them. The similar rumours that had reached the ears of Arwen and Alarien were equally as unfounded as those Legolas had heard. For though he was fairer of face than even the measure of their kind, he was neither arrogant nor self-obsessed. He was kind, compassionate and fair in judgement. He was immensely loyal to his father and obeyed his every order to the word. His easy, friendly manner had gained him a large group of friends and an equally large band of admirers, although he was oblivious to the existence of the latter. His expertise on swordplay and archery gained him the respect and admiration of many, and his wise counsel drew to him many elves seeking his advice. He was well loved throughout the kingdom and his mere presence commanded respect and honour. To Landir it seemed that no matter what he did, he would always be second best to Legolas, even in their father's eyes. The praise and affection Thranduil showered openly on his elder brother caused him to be bitter and resentful, not seeing the love that his father felt for him too. It wasn't that Landir was unpopular, he just tended to mix with less desirable elves who, like himself, harboured ill feelings towards Legolas. However, all this was unknown to Legolas. His one fault being that although he was able to perceive everything that went on around him, he often failed to see what was in front of his face. Subsequently he could not understand his father's tired exasperated manner of late, and his brother's hurtful maliciousness. Legolas was just straightening up and moving away from the window when a song reached his ears, floating on the cool breeze. The voice was the most perfect sound he had ever heard and he rushed over to the window and leaned out, so as to behold the source of the beautiful song. His gaze swept across the ground beneath his window and suddenly he saw a movement in the corner of his left eye. He glanced over just in time to see a figure turning into the forest. He watched as the singer's dark hair shone in the sun, light glinting on the silver circlet she wore on her head. Her green gown merged with the colour of the trees as she disappeared from view. As he backed away from the window, Legolas realised that he hadn't breathed since he had first heard the song and he took a few well-needed breaths.

Without really thinking what he was doing, he rushed out of his chamber, desperate to behold more clearly this curious maiden. As he sped out of his chamber, he collided with his servant, Falaborn. Calling his apologies over his shoulder to the dazed elf, he continued down the corridor.

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Wandering slowly through the forest, being careful to stay within the view of the palace, Alarien looked around herself, admiring the lushness of the part of the wood she was in. Dark purple, almost black, (or were they black?) butterflies flew around her and she heard birds answering her as she sang, her sweet voice bringing joy to the hearts of those creatures that heard her. She came to a bubbling stream, its flow interrupted by several small stones leading across it to a large stone with a flat top in the very middle. She jumped lightly across to the large stone and found it was just large enough to sit on. She crossed her legs and sat with her back straight, facing away down the stream, the water splashing at her feet. The sounds of nature were all around her and the warm air seemed to lull her troubled mind. Letting herself relax, she fell into a meditative state, completely still and silent, hardly seeming to breathe. The green light filtering through the thick canopy cast an unearthly glow on her as she sat. Such was the view that Prince Legolas beheld as he stumbled across her, in his favourite spot. Not daring to disturb what he wasn't entirely sure was real; he backed out of sight behind a tree. All the time she sat there unmoving, occasionally humming softly, he watched her, hardly daring to breathe for fear of disturbing her reverie. He had come across her quite unexpectedly. When he had entered the forest, she had stopped singing and he could not find any evidence to show where she had gone. So, not just a little disappointed, he had gone to his favourite spot, only to find it occupied by the very being he had looking for. However, she was still facing away from him, and as he was considering moving to see her better, she raised her head, suddenly aware of a presence close by. She stood up and jumped back across the stream, onto the other bank. Moving away from him, she walked swiftly into the forest and was gone.
    
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A/N: Please review and tell me what you think, even if you hate it! But if you flame, try to be constructive rather than just plain rude! 


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

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As she neared the palace, Alarien reflected on what she had seen, or rather felt, in forest. As she had sat, absorbed in her thoughts, she had suddenly felt another presence on the boundaries of her consciousness. However, the presence had not felt like an intrusion, more like it had always been there, and it was she who was intruding. It was slightly unnerving and she began to hurry, wanting to relate her experience with Arwen and to hear her thoughts. Soon she had reached the palace, and she went in and hurried straight to her chamber.

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Still leaning against the tree, by which he had stood for some time, Legolas was also reflecting on what he had seen. He did not think he had been seen, but he knew that his presence had been felt and that was why the maiden had left. He felt guilty for having intruded on the stranger's pensive state. What was he doing? He was supposed to be meeting his possible future bride, he shouldn't be chasing an unknown, and as yet, virtually unseen, stranger. He mentally shook himself; it was most unlike him to go seeking owners for sweet voices. All the elves in Mirkwood had fair voices. But yet, he sighed, there had been something that had drawn him to it. The song was joyful, and the tone the purest he had ever heard; yet deep beneath it there was a troubled almost lamenting quality. Something in him ached to smooth out the unease. He moved away from the tree and stood by the stream, picturing the figure that had sat on his rock. He stood straight, letting the light breeze blow through his hair and onto his face. Gradually the confusion he had felt began to ease and relieved, he steeled himself to forget what had happened that day. It was just his insatiable curiosity he told himself, pretending not to hear the part of his mind that was telling him there was something more. Striding quickly away he made his way back to the palace.

*             *             *

Unnoticed by both Alarien and Legolas, Arwen had also been in the woods that morning. She had been coming into the palace when she had seen a figure dash past her into the woods in the same direction as she had seen Alarien go some time before from her chamber window. Going further down the corridor she had heard the prince's attendant telling another elf how his master had suddenly come running out of his chamber as if it was on fire and raced into the woods. Arwen recalled his exact words _"It was almost as if he had seen a ghost!"_ Curious, she had turned around and followed his path, running quickly, her footsteps silent and undetectable. After wandering around for some time, she had come across the clearing where she observed Alarien sitting on the rock, and saw the tall figure watching her, although he was almost entirely hidden in the shadow. Afraid of being discovered, she had swiftly returned to the palace, a smirk on her face, to wait for Alarien's return. She did not have to wait long. With a light flush on her cheeks, Alarien rushed into her chamber to find Arwen sitting on a chair by her window looking out. She turned as she heard her friend enter the room and smiled at her, her face suddenly becoming concerned as she saw the confused expression on Alarien's face.

"Why Alarien, what is it?"

"I…I am in need of your opinion on something."

"But of course. What is it that so obviously has confused you, my friend?"

Sitting down opposite Arwen, Alarien explained to her the strange presence she had felt and why it had confused her so. Smiling, Arwen leaned across and took her hand.

"I think I may just be able to enlighten you, my dear. When I myself was wandering in the woods this morning, some time after I had seen you enter them this earlier on, I happened to see you sitting on the rock in the stream, obviously absorbed in your own thoughts. Rather than disturb you, and being on the path back to the palace I was just about to continue on my way when I saw a figure under a tree nearby, watching you. However, I could not see their face, as they were virtually hidden in the shadow. But I knew anyway who the figure was as I myself had followed them into the forest." She paused for effect before continuing, "It was none other than the Prince Legolas." Shocked and very surprised, Alarien felt a flush come to her cheeks.

"But why should he be watching me?" She asked, more confused than before.

"From what I overheard in a conversation between his attendant and another elf, I should have thought that he saw you enter the forest, and was curious to know who you were. I expect your singing drew his attention to you." Comprehension came to Alarien's face and she spoke thoughtfully.

"That was why I felt as if I was the one intruding, his presence has always been there!" Smiling at her friend, Arwen stood up, and as Alarien followed her action, placed her hands on her shoulders.

"It is now time to get ready to go down to meet the King and Prince for the celebration of our arrival. Now we shall be able to see if the rumours we heard were in fact true. Listen! There is the dressing bell, we must make haste!" They went over to the wardrobe that Alarien had discovered was full of beautiful gowns. Together they went through them to pick out the one that would become her the most.

*             *             *

King Thranduil was eager to make a good impression on his guest and her attendant. Like Elrond, he believed that a union between his son and the Lady Arwen would be a fine match and create a tighter link between the two realms of Rivendell and Mirkwood. His anger at finding his escort had arrived later than planned and the elf-maidens had been waylaid by orcs had caused him to rise to the occasion of the celebration even more than he usually did with distinguished guests. The main hall had been decorated with great swathes of gauzy material in bright colours that looped from a central pole attached to the ceiling to parallel points on the walls, creating a tent like effect. The light from the long window filtered through the material and cast coloured shadows on the walls. Great pots of flowers bedecked both the main table and pedestals spaced evenly around the walls, ivy twining around their bases. The fragrant smells of flowers and food filled the hall and the torches placed either side of the doors flickered with blue flame. Thranduil had come in some time before the bell was rung to survey the decorations. Pleased at the result he had summoned his son to him. He smiled as he saw Legolas enter the hall. He was immensely proud of his son, even though he was still young, he son already showed the signs of becoming a great king when the time came for him.

Legolas had already dressed for dinner, his tall figure draped in a tunic and trousers of a deep blue, decorated with silver patterns. He looked every inch a prince. As he approached his father, he bowed, his fluid ease of movement every bit as graceful as it as natural. Together, prince and king circuited the room, making sure every last detail was perfect, before going their separate ways, the king to his chamber, and Legolas to the courtyard by his chamber. He had some time before the dinner bell would be rung and wished to let off a few arrows. The next week was the Mirkwood archery and other weaponry competition and he did not wish to lose the title he had kept for so many years. There was, as always, a target set up in the far corner of the grassy courtyard. Legolas had specifically requested it to be left there at all times. He often went there to let off anger by doing some archery practice, his favourite sport. Taking the bow he had fetched from his chamber on the way off his back, he took up his stance and notched an arrow to the string. He paused for a moment, lining up his aim, before letting go. The arrow had found its mark, in the very centre of the target. He stayed there until finally, after about half an hour, the bell rang for dinner. As he stopped by his chamber on the way to the main hall to put his bow and quiver away, he found that he was apprehensive. _That's odd_, he thought, _why should I be nervous about meeting someone I'm probably not even going to like? _But he knew that, whether or not he would like the Lady Arwen, he would still have to try his best to make a good impression. Closing his door behind him, he made his way to the hall.

*             *             *

By the time Arwen and Alarien arrived, the majority of the guests were already seated around the long table. The King and prince had not yet arrived and relieved that they were not late, they were shown to their seats. Alarien was seated near to the head of the table, close to where she assumed Thranduil and Legolas would be sitting. To her dismay she found that Arwen would not be sitting anywhere near her, she was at the other end with the more important household staff. For the occasion, Arwen had replaced her hooded cloak with a veil that covered her face. As she took her place she smiled reassuringly at the nervous Alarien, who was taking her place at the opposite end of the table. The gown they had eventually chosen for Alarien was a flowing, shimmering silver, embroidered with a pattern in emerald thread. The belt was a darker silver chord and was tied neatly at the side, the tasselled ends hanging down. The combination of colours enhanced her own natural beauty and her eyes seemed to shine more than ever. Her long, dark hair lay silkily down her back, its soft waves shining. She looked just like a princess. No sooner had they say down than the heralds were announcing the King and his sons, and they stood up as they walked in. Thranduil moved to his place at the head of the table and picked up his golden cup, already filled with wine, to make a toast.

"My dear friends. We are gathered in such wonderful company tonight to welcome our distinguished guest from Lothlórien, Lady Arwen, daughter of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, granddaughter of the Lady Galadriel. Let us make her as welcome here as possible. To the Lady Arwen!" The people gathered round the table echoed his last sentence, much to the embarrassment of a blushing Alarien, before taking their seats. She heard someone taking the seat next to her and turning round she found herself looking into the face of one of the princes. Having never met either, Alarien was not sure which son he was, and felt herself become tongue tied before the prince took her hand, brought it to his lips and bestowed a kiss to it.

"I am Prince Landir, I am charmed to meet you at last Lady Arwen." Mentally thanking him, she bowed her head in a gesture of recognition.

"I am equally charmed, thank you." At that point, the elf on the other side of Landir engaged him in conversation and she was able to look at him more openly. He was fair of face, with very pale skin and almost grey eyes. His long hair, braided at the sides was a light chestnut colour. Although it was hard to tell, as he was sitting down, he looked as though he would be quite tall. As she turned away from him to look at the elves around her, she immediately made eye contact with the elf sitting opposite her, at the King's right hand. Her emerald eyes were locked into the gaze of a pair of ocean blue ones. She drew in her breath quickly, for the eyes were bestowed in the most perfect face she had ever seen. His features looked as though the gods themselves had carved them, with his high cheekbones, soft jaw line, liquid blue eyes and shapely mouth. She dwelled for a moment on that mouth, with its soft lips drawn into a half smile. His silky, golden hair hung straight down to the centre of his back, with thin braids pulling it behind his delicately pointed ears. She could feel herself blushing but she couldn't tear herself away from those eyes, their gaze seemed to pull her deep into them, looking right into her soul. She felt herself falling deeper and deeper into them until she heard a voice cutting through the link that had seemed to form between the two sets of eyes.

"Legolas my son, have you yet introduced yourself to the Lady Arwen?" The king looked at his son and smiled. He knew he could trust him to be on his best behaviour. Alarien looked down at her hands as she felt her shyness creeping over her. She wondered which one the prince was and who this mysterious elf was and was about to ask Landir when she saw a hand being extended to her across the table. It belonged to the same elf that she had been visually engaged with only a moment ago.

"Prince Legolas, my Lady. I am happy to finally make your acquaintance." He was smiling fully now, his shapely mouth curved in such a way that it seemed to make his whole face light up, making him even more awe-inspiring than before.

"It is a pleasure to meet you at last, Prince Legolas." She stammered.

"No, it is my pleasure to look upon such a face as yours." Blushing slightly, she smiled and held out her own hand and he too, placed a kiss upon it. She felt a shiver run down her back at the touch of those lips on her skin, and to her surprise heard a chuckle from across the table.

"Why, you seem to be shaking slightly my Lady, you are not cold I hope?" He looked at her quizzically, his eyes searching her face, one eyebrow raised.

"No, I am not cold thank you."

"You must be nervous then. Please, feel at ease, I myself am not good with strangers, I hope we shall not be strangers for long." She returned his smile and was thinking of something to say when the food began to arrive at the table. As the serving staff placed the food in front of the guests, the King himself engaged her in conversation. She felt her nervousness dissipate as she laughed with the king. His easy manner put her at ease immediately. Her thoughts however returned to the prince. She had not really spoken to him, but he had been kind and tried to put her at ease and he did not seem to be arrogant or self-centred as the rumours had said, but then, she couldn't really judge just yet.

From across the table, Legolas watched her talk with his father. He could feel her becoming more at ease as she became more animated in her conversation, every now and then smiling in such a way that made his heart leap in his chest. Now that he knew who the mysterious maiden he had been following was, he found himself hardly surprised. Indeed, he chided himself for not guessing sooner, for somehow he felt that all along he had known the stranger had not belonged to Mirkwood. Something deep inside hoped that one day she would, and surprised at himself, he turned his gaze away from the beautiful vision sitting so close to him, though it felt as though there was still miles between them. The one thing that had surprised him was her timid manner. It was all at once endearing and vulnerable, nothing at all like the vain, confidant maiden he had expected. He looked over at his brother who, having ended his conversation with his neighbour, was looking sideways at the Lady. Legolas felt something defensive stir inside him and he had a sudden urge to put himself between his brother and the Lady. He definitely didn't like the way he was staring at her so openly.

Feeling someone watching him, Landir turned and saw his brother staring at him, his eyes stormy. He smirked and smiled smugly at his brother. Moving his chair a fraction closer to the Lady. He laughed inside to himself, those eyes of his might well be fair, but they were like a window to his emotions, his dislike of the way he had been looking at Arwen was written all over them. He noticed that she had finished talking with his father and saw that Legolas was about to engage her in conversation, leaning slightly across the table. Well, he would get there first! He tapped her on the shoulder and was rewarded by a smiling vision of beauty. Despite himself, he felt a rush of pleasure at beholding her. He began to ask her questions, finding himself more and more enchanted by her. Every now and then she would smile and it would light up her whole face and was so infectious that it made him smile as well. As she answered his questions she would gesture to help in her descriptions of things, her long slender hands moving gracefully. His pleasure was ever more increased by what his sideways glances at his brother found. To him, Legolas looked furious, perhaps even jealous? 

Indeed he was very angry. He knew that he brother was only doing it to irritate him, but Legolas also knew that Landir could tell it was working. To his surprise, he could also feel stabs of jealousy. His confusion of emotions made him retreat into himself and he gave up trying to make sense of them. Leaning back, he watched her and tried to ignore the fact that the one she was bestowing those smiles on was Landir.

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A/N: Feedback is nice, so please click on that little button and make my day! 


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

Oh and don't bother sending me complaints about how this is like such and such, and is a Mary-sue or whatever. If you don't like it, don't read it! I couldn't give a flying f**k if you think it's crap! (That's not to say anyone has said that, I was just giving a pre-emptive warning, coz I've seen what some people write in flames, and they are just way harsh.)

Thanks to all those who have reviewed, I'm sending out happy vibes to you all!

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After the meal in which Alarien had mostly been engaged in conversation with the younger prince and his father, as well as some of the elf-maidens sitting near her, the higher ranked household staff bowed their thanks and left to attend to their duties. Arwen was among them. It was not fitting for her, in her guise as a handmaiden, to stay, but Alarien appeared to be coping and she wasn't worried. Alarien herself, on the other hand, was finding it hard not to let her eyes stray back to the face of the elder prince who she could feel watching her every now and then. She had to keep reminding herself that whether or not he was as the rumours had said, she did not want to endanger the secret between herself and Arwen, and that meant acting cool and aloof whenever the elder prince did try to engage her attention. She could not shrug off the guilt she felt at snubbing someone who had done no wrong to her, but she pushed it out of her mind, her duty to Arwen was the most important thing. 

Dancing followed the meal, with elven musicians providing the accompaniment. As she got up she felt a tap on her shoulder, and, spinning around, found herself face to face with the elder of the two princes. Before she could think of an excuse to refuse, he had asked her to dance, and annoyed with herself, she accepted. At least Arwen was not here to see. One hand on her elbow, he gently guided her into the centre of the room. Alarien saw the king looking at them over the shoulder of the elf her was talking to. He was smiling approvingly and nodded his head as he caught her eye. She returned the gesture before turning to face Legolas. She wondered what the first dance would be. _Oh please don't let it be a free dance!_ She thought. _At least if it is a set dance, I will not have to be with him for the whole thing! _Unfortunately for her, the musicians began to play a slow, waltzing tune. Her sense of unease began to creep over her as she found the close presence of the prince was causing her heart to beat quickly in her chest. Looking up at him she found that he was no more than half a head taller than herself, he was not as tall as his brother evidently, but still of surprisingly athletic build, lean and strong, though not as obviously muscular like his brother. He reached out and took her right hand in his left and placed the other gently on her waist. She placed her other hand on his shoulder, surprised despite herself at its firmness. Trying not to enjoy the feel of his hand on her waist and encasing her own, she concentrated on the movements. As they danced, their bodies naturally moving together to the music, Alarien felt herself relaxing, he didn't seem to want to talk to her, he appeared to her quiet and reflective. She concerned herself with not looking into his angelic face; she knew if she did, she would not be able to tear her gaze away from his.

Legolas was indeed in a quiet and reflective mood. As a rule, he liked to let his actions speak for him, but laughing inside, he didn't think that any of the actions he was thinking about now would be very appropriate. Besides, the way she had coolly answered his questions at dinner, with short sharp answers that gave little away, and the fact that she had made no attempt to engage him in conversation made him think that perhaps she would not appreciate those actions either. Her aloofness both enthralled and confused him. He was not used to finding resistance from maidens, though he never took for granted the fact that he could have any that he wished, but somehow the challenge seemed to appeal to him. He felt somehow that her coolness was not natural; something was causing her to hold back from him, she had certainly not been holding back in her conversation with his brother, he thought, and a bitter stab of jealousy pierced his heart. He realised that in his pensive state, he was forgetting to appreciate the fact that he was in fact currently engaged in a dance with her. He let himself relax, enjoying the feel of her slender hands on his shoulder and inside his own. The two hands seemed to him to fit together as though they had been designed for that purpose. When the dance came to an end and they broke apart, far too soon he thought to himself, he reached out a hand and tilted her face up, her emerald eyes reluctantly meeting his sapphire ones.

"Thank you. It was a pleasure." She did not answer, but curtseyed gracefully. He turned and walked away. His brother, who had been waiting bitterly for their dance to finish, immediately engaged her and Legolas gained a large amount of pleasure from the fact that the next dance was a set dance. However, that pleasure quickly dissipated as he saw her smiling and laughing with his brother. _What does this mean?_ He thought. _She has come here for the purpose of meeting me, and yet, she seems far more interested in my brother!_ He knew he should accept the fact that she was not interested in him, but still something inside him told him that there was more to her coolness than disinterestedness or dislike.

As she danced with Landir, Alarien caught Legolas looking at them and was saddened to find his eyes clouded with confusion. She knew that it would be inevitable if she was to snub him as was necessary, but she had not expected her friendship to mean so much to him. Besides, despite herself, she couldn't stop thinking about how natural it had felt dancing with him, and the connection that formed between them every time she looked into his eyes. She remembered how she had been both pleased and disappointed when their dance had ended. She wondered if he felt…_No!_ She thought angrily, _do not wonder what he thinks, it could never be. He would not even look at you if he knew who you really were._ Her thoughts seemed to make far more sense than her feelings, but she still felt as though she needed to escape for a while. When the dance, her third with Landir, ended, she curtseyed gracefully and excused herself. Disappearing through the doors at the side that she had seen led onto a balcony, pulling the curtain that covered the opening aside as she went through, she was immediately met by a blast of cool evening air. The balcony was large, the size of a good-sized room, and had a railing just a bit higher than her waist all around it.  Stepping further out, she shivered slightly and rubbed her arms to warm them. She took a few deep breaths of the crisp, fresh air and walked over to lean on the railing She jumped slightly as she heard a voice from her left.

"You appear to be shivering again, Lady Arwen. But this time I fear, it is due to the cold."

Turning to face the direction of the voice she felt an immediate flash of dismay: it was Legolas. She had not heard the curtains move, so he must have been here before her. He walked over to her carrying his own cloak that he had taken off. She did not protest as he draped it over her shoulders, she was cold after all, and it would seem rude.

"Thank you." She whispered. She looked into his face and instantly regretted it. Once more she was being held captive in his eyes. She felt them searching her own, as though using them as a window into her soul. Panic stricken she imagined that he would guess her secret and wrenching her eyes away she broke his gaze. But it was too late. Legolas' perceptive eyes, which had indeed been searching in her own, had detected the fact that her aloofness was not natural, but deliberate. Relieved that he was not at fault, he decided not to ask her about it. She would change if she got to know him, he was almost sure of it. He was, however, curious to know about Lothlórien and what it looked like, and despite herself, she found herself giving him long and detailed answers, telling him about her own favourite walks and places. In return she asked him questions and he responded in the same way, though choosing to omit the description of his own favourite place that she had already visited earlier that day. Losing track of time, they talked lengthily and for some time, each giving the other their full attention. The King noticed their absences and assumed, rightly, that they were together. He felt pleased that things were going so well, though in fact, to Alarien, things were not exactly going to plan. Suddenly interrupted in their conversation, Legolas and Alarien turned simultaneously at the sound of the curtains being pulled aside and Landir moved into the light. He nodded curtly to Legolas, flashing him a distasteful look, and bowed low to Alarien.

"I trust that the night air has done you good, my Lady. Would you care to dance?" She accepted immediately, suddenly realising that she had been gone for some time. She removed Legolas' cloak from her shoulders and as she handed it to him, their fingers brushed and she felt a shiver at the touch. He did not seem to notice and there was no sign on his face that he had felt it. Accepting the arm Landir offered her, she went back inside, kicking herself mentally for succumbing to Legolas's politeness and charm. She had let her defence down and now she had put herself in a bad position.

She could not suddenly go back to being aloof, that would look extremely odd, so, she decided, she would just have to be friendly, and no more. _No more!_ She thought again to herself, emphasising the words.

Legolas watched her leave on the arm of his brother. He had noticed Landir's displeasure at finding her with him, even if she hadn't. However, he didn't really care. He now knew that Arwen's apparent coolness had been a front, a defence, but against what he did not know. Neither did he know the reason for it, though he suspected that his brother might have had something to do with it. He remained on the balcony for some time after she left, letting the cool air wash over him, recalling the animated way she had talked about her home. It was clear that she loved it dearly; he found a part of him wishing that one day she would talk about him like that. He realised that he was thinking far ahead of himself, so far he had only had one conversation with her. And yet, every time she had touched him he had felt something stir in his heart. Yes, no matter how he looked at it, he was definitely attracted to her. But so, he feared, was Landir. 

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A/N: Feedback is nice, so please click on that little button and make my day! 


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

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Retiring to her chamber that night, Alarien was oblivious to the emotional confusion she had caused to others, though she was well aware of her own. No matter how hard she had tried to remain cold and aloof, she had failed and so, had failed Arwen. She could not go back on what she had done, she would have to remain friendly, but she vowed that she would only speak when spoken to, and would avoid Legolas at all costs. She wasn't sure that she could trust herself to keep to her words if she was near him. Landir on the other hand, was a safe bet. She could feel comfortable around him knowing that she would not suffer the same increased pulse rate and flushes. He would not try to keep her captive in his gaze either. She could also get information out of him about Legolas; was he really as the rumours had said? She wondered, he had not seemed to be, but then they had not talked for long. Tomorrow she decided, she would seek Landir out, they could perhaps go horse riding together. Her train of thoughts was interrupted by the entry of Arwen through the side door. As they took it in turns to brush each other's hair as they did every night, Alarien told her about the events of the evening, omitting the details about how she had felt around Legolas. Arwen seemed happy that she had had fun and at the same time managed to keep to their plan. After a while said goodnight and retired to bed. Alarien lay awake for a long time, trying to empty her mind of a certain face with ocean blue eyes that seemed to be haunting her very thoughts.

*          *          *

The next day, Legolas was up early with the dawn. He had woken up early after an almost sleepless night and decided that he might as well put the time to good use by doing some archery and weaponry practice. Taking with him his favourite bow and sword and a quiver full of arrows, he made his way to the courtyard where he had been last night. He began with swordplay and tirelessly practised the intricate, almost dance like, patterns of movement. He wielded the sword like it was a part of him, an extension of his arm, and his movements were clear-cut and sharp. Round and round the sword swung, cutting from side to side, its blade flashing in the morning sun, his wrist twisting and turning, eventually swinging the sword back to the rest position. 

Even after his extensive practice session he had not even broken into a sweat, although there was a slight flush on his smooth cheeks. Laying down his sword he picked up his bow and moved over to the mark he had made in the grass at the correct distance from the target. The mark was a good 500 feet away from the target, but with his elven eyesight, aiming was not the main problem, it was getting the right amount of power behind the arrow. Too much power and the arrow would bypass the target. Too little and it would fall short. So far, he was doing well and had not missed a shot, all his arrows had made contact with the target, most of them in or near the centre, though there were a few on the edge where he hadn't controlled his breathing properly. He moved onto speed shooting. The competition required the competitors to fire off twenty arrows in twenty-five seconds, gaining the best score as possible, not an easy feat as it gave you little time to aim. His arm was taking the arrows out of the quiver, notching them to the string, pulling them back and sending them flying to the target quicker than the eye could follow. After he had spent all twenty, he checked his time and moved to the target to check out his score. It was pretty good, although he knew that he would need more practice to be sure to win, there were some skilled competitors entering the competition this year, but he didn't want it to be the end of his winning streak. He continued practising all morning, and by the time the lunch bell rang, he was flushed and tired. His shoulder ached and he rubbed it to ease the pain before collecting up his arrows. He had made them himself; specially adapting them for a faster, more powerful flight. They were longer and thinner than usual, with a narrow, extremely sharp tip that concentrated all the force onto a small area, gaining the maximum impact. They were also made of a black wood that contrasted with the few extra arrows he kept in his quiver, which were made from a pale wood with green feathers, while the feathers on his own were red. As he straightened up from picking an arrow he had dropped off the floor, he noticed a movement in one of the windows and looked up to see a curtain of dark hair swing round and out of sight. He pretended not to notice that she had been watching him, though he had been aware of a presence in the last few minutes. He had not known it was her; as he had been too involved in his practice to look around, but he wondered if she had been impressed. He had, he thought, had a pretty good practice session. Pleased with himself, he went back into the palace and went down to dinner.

*          *          *

Alarien too had awoken early that day. She felt tired due to lack of rest, as sleep had been long in coming. After breakfasting from the platter of fruit that had been placed in her room she had gotten dressed and gone to seek out Landir. After asking around she had found him in the weapon store, examining some bows. He had jumped at the idea of a ride and suggested that he take her on a tour of Mirkwood. Charmed by the idea she accepted and together they had gone to the stables and set out. She found Landir to be good company, he was lively and cheerful and smiled often. In fact, he was the complete opposite of the sullen, bitter elf he became when around his brother, though Alarien was not aware of this. They rode together all morning, Landir showing her all the places of interest as well as his own favourite places. They spoke almost constantly about all manner of things, though Alarien found that his face clouded over when she asked him about Legolas. She was surprised to hear him confirm the rumours that she had told him she had heard, and found it hard to believe. Legolas had seemed so polite, so gentle and considerate. But she realised that she hardly knew him, whereas Landir was his own brother. Still, she decided, she would like to form her own opinion of him. It was almost midday when they returned to the stables, and together they brushed down the horses before parting to go their separate ways. It was as she was walking down the corridor towards her chamber that she had glanced out of the window and seen Legolas in the courtyard. She marvelled at the speed in which he fired off the arrows, for his skill far outshone her own, although she herself was a competent enough archer. Seeing him turn in her direction and bend down to pick up a stray arrow she had been afraid he would see her and turned to continue down the corridor. As she was entering her chamber, she came face to face with Arwen who was carrying in a bowl of fragrant water with petals floating on the surface so that she could wash for lunch.

"Arwen, let me do that. I feel awful going about and having fun while you are here performing my duties."

"Don't be silly, this is a good experience for me." Arwen had already lunched with the household staff, but she helped to make Alarien look presentable for the meal. They talked about what they had done that morning and Alarien told her all that Landir had said about his brother. Arwen did not seem so surprised to find the rumours apparently true, it seemed that she had not had much faith in finding him otherwise from the start.

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A/N: Feedback is nice, so please click on that little button and make my day!


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

I'm really sorry about the f**k-up in the format of chapter 6, but I have sorted it out now. It was just messed up for a bit!

And there is a little more action in this chapter you'll be pleased to know! Blondie gets mad…

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Just as he was about to leave his chamber to go down to lunch, Legolas heard his door open, and he turned round to see who it was entering his room without knocking. Landir stalked in, a smug expression marring his otherwise attractive face. Legolas inwardly sighed, evidently his brother had done something he wished to brag about. He waited for the first snide comment.

"I noticed you practising this morning, dear brother. It looked to me that you will need a good deal more practice than that to maintain your little 'winning streak'" The last few words were dripping with sarcasm but Legolas hardly noticed: he was doing his best not to listen.

"Yes, Landir, I agree with you. I am in great need of practice if I wish to pose any threat to a skilled competitor such as yourself." _Two can play at that game_, he thought, taking pleasure from his younger brother's sour expression.

"Yes, well, there's one thing I can almost be certain you won't win."

Deliberately keeping his brother guessing, Landir noticed Legolas was paying attention now, though he was obviously pretending not to. After a moment Legolas spoke slowly.

"And what would that be younger brother? If you have a point to make, please go ahead and make it and stop wasting my time."

"Well it was my exceeding pleasure to be sought out by the Lady Arwen this morning. Together we went by horse on a tour of Mirkwood. In fact, I have only just parted company with her. I wonder why it is that she didn't seek you out this morning? Obviously she prefers my company. I wouldn't be too upset about it Legolas, you always have your precious sports and that little fan club of yours that you call your friends. I must say though, the pleasure of finally beating you at something is ever more increased by the value of the prize that I have won." Without waiting for his brother to retort he swept out of the room leaving the door open behind him. Unable to control his anger, Legolas followed him silently down the corridor, grabbing his shoulder and slamming him against the wall. He saw an expression of pain flicker over his brother's face before it changed to a smug satisfaction at having so successfully angered his elder brother. He smiled silkily, noting with pleasure the stormy eyes flashing and burning in the usually placid face that was now contorted with anger.

"Now, now Legolas. It would do you good to learn to control that nasty little temper of yours. Besides, anger is not very becoming" He wrenched himself away from his brother's strong grip and continued down the corridor, immensely pleased with himself. Legolas watched him, fuming with anger at his brother, but more at himself or not being able to control his temper and giving his brother the pleasure of knowing that he had wound him up so easily. He was breathing quickly and his previously flushed face had now gone pale. He had shocked and scared himself; he had never felt so uncontrollably angry. It was as though after years of searching for a weak spot, Landir had finally found one, and in one carefully calculated move, pierced it, letting all the rage that had built up inside him over the years of his brother's taunts and insults spill out. He completely regretted his actions, but he had had no choice in the matter, his rage had been his master. After years of not rising to Landir, he had finally succumbed, and he knew that his brother would be feeling immensely pleased with himself. Retreating back into his chamber, Legolas sat down heavily in his chair, with none of his usual natural fluidity of movement, and placed his fair head in his hands. He remained in the same position for some time, not heeding even his hunger.

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Alarien, Landir and Thranduil all noticed Legolas's absence at dinner. To Landir, it gave him another reminder of his triumph over him. To Thranduil it gave both concern and irritation and to Alarien it gave relief and, though it was deeply hidden and smothered by her conscience, some disappointment. She quickly forgot whatever else she was feeling for Landir seemed to be in very high spirits and was eager to talk. Thranduil left after the first course to seek out Legolas, leaving Alarien and Landir alone in the smaller dining room used for everyday meals. She remarked to him that she had seen Legolas practising in the courtyard and asked him if there was something special he was training for. Landir explained to her about the contest and they talked about the rules and stages of the competition until they finished their meal. As Alarien stood up to leave, Landir followed her motion and they stood facing each other. He reached out a hand and tilted her face to look up at his and Alarien remembered that Legolas had done the exact same thing after they had danced the night before.

"You are very beautiful Arwen, yet you seem so unaware of it." Alarien was now accustomed to being referred to as Arwen and it no longer took her a few moments to realise it was in fact her who was being called. Confused, she couldn't think of anything to say, so she lowered her gaze and looked at her feet while she searched around for the right words. After a few moments she spoke, once more raising her eyes to meet his.

"I thank you for your kind words, for I was quite unaware that you saw me in such a way." _That was neutral wasn't it?_ She thought, _please don't let him say anything else like that_. He laughed lightly, and took his hand away.

"Indeed I do see you in such a way. It is impossible to see you any other way." With a neat bow he left, leaving her standing a little bemused in the empty hall. She remained there for a few minutes, reflecting on the change that had come over her in the last few days. Somehow she felt both more confident and more timid than she had before. The friendliness of the elves at the celebration dinner had made her feel comfortable and she realised that she was beginning to get over her shyness around strangers. And yet, around Legolas she felt almost afraid of him, his presence did things to her emotions that she didn't really understand. She recalled what Landir had said. Was she really beautiful? He couldn't mean it, he would not have said it if he had met the real Arwen. She wondered why he had said that. Would he have said it if he had known who she really was? So many questions were in her head right now, and she couldn't make sense of any of them. Gathering her thoughts as best as she could she left the room.

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By the time Thranduil had reached Legolas' chamber, he found it empty. He had a good idea where he might be, he knew there was a place in the nearby forest that his son had frequented all his life, finding it a place of solitude and calm. He made his way there and, as he had expected, found his son sitting almost motionless on the large rock in the middle of the stream. Thranduil smiled as he remembered how, still only a child, Legolas had discovered that rock, an island in the rushing water. His smile quickly disappeared when he picked up the aura of unease that hung about his son. He debated whether or not to make his presence known and talk to his son there and then, or leave him to his thoughts. He chose the latter; knowing that Legolas would come to him if he needed his advice on whatever it was that troubled him. As silently as he had appeared, he left, Legolas still unaware of him; lost in thought and contemplation.

Arwen saw the king come out of the forest and enter the palace as she sat by her window, calmly writing songs and music that she could imagine the elves of Lothlórien performing with great joy. Sometime after she had returned to her room she heard Alarien enter her chamber next door, though she soon heard her leave it again and listened as her light footsteps moved down the corridor.

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After parting from Alarien (or Arwen as he knew her) at the end of their meal, Landir had once more returned to the weaponry where Alarien had found him that morning. He had been examining the bows and trying to decide which one he would use for the competition. He was more accurate with a short bow, but a long bow guaranteed more power. He thought bitterly of the bow that Legolas used, a gift from their father. It was a fine weapon, strong, sturdy and beautiful too, with runes and patterns carved and painted on it. Although he had played the competition down to his friends, it meant an awful lot to him. If he could win it, a smile spread across his face as he imagined himself, being hugged by his father, surrounded by cheering people as he held the trophy aloft while Legolas, defeated and dejected, stood to one side. He smiled at his thoughts, then left the weaponry, making his way to his own practice ground.

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A/N: Hope you like this chapter. If so, please review and tell me!


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

Thanks to all those who have reviewed, and Emerald Queen, I know there is not much about Arwen, but all she is doing at the moment is pretending to be a handmaiden to Alarien. It is Alarien who everyone thinks is Arwen; the one who everyone hopes will marry Legolas! Arwen is not interested in Legolas for anything but to satisfy her curiosity over whether he is as the rumours say, because she already loves Aragorn. Complicated, I know!

And I know the chapters are quite short, but I have been updating pretty quickly, and you can't have it all!

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It was late afternoon when Legolas decided he was ready to return to the palace. He took the route back that led through the forest; he wanted to avoid seeing Landir at all costs. As he was emerging from the treeline, his gaze aimed at the sky, he walked straight into another figure going in the opposite direction. The other elf was knocked off balance and he caught them by the hand as they began to fall backwards. To his surprise he saw it was the Lady Arwen. As he set her on her feet and let go of her hand they both looked at each other in surprise. Alarien stepped back in alarm, she had not expected to find Legolas coming out of the woods: she had managed to avoid him all day and was just talking a solitary walk as she usually did once or twice a day. She began to think of something to say to break the silence when he spoke, his soft voice sounding thin and tired. Risking a glance at his eyes she saw they were clouded with fatigue and something else, worry? Remorse?

"You know, the forests of Mirkwood are not safe by night my Lady, and it shall soon be dusk, the stars are visible even now."

"I was just going for a walk, it won't take long." She paused before adding "Good evening." She made as if to move past him into the woods, but he moved over to bar her path. A hint of annoyance flashed through her eyes. Was he deliberately trying to make things difficult for her?

"I would take heed of my words if I were you. As I said, the forests are not safe by night for one walking alone."

"But all I wish is to take a short walk just inside the treeline." There was a stubborn edge to her voice that amused him, although his words were serious.

"If you insist on going for a walk…" She interrupted him mid-sentence,

"Which I do." He raised an eyebrow before continuing,

"Then I am afraid I must accompany you." He saw she was going to protest, but he held up a hand to stop her. "I must ensure your safety, and therefore I must accompany you." Alarien was thoroughly put out. To have her evening walk, which she always took alone, disturbed by the one person she was doing her best to avoid was bad luck indeed, but she could not back out now after making such a fuss. He told her to wait where she was and ran off into a nearby building, returning a minute later with a bow and quiver of arrows slung over his shoulder. He took her elbow and guided her into the forest, his eyes alert. As they walked, Alarien began to feel a bit uneasy, he was obviously being serious about the forest being dangerous at night, and she felt foolish at having put him out of his way, he had been coming out of the forest after all. He let her lead the way, sometimes stopping her to suggest an easier or preferable route. Before they had gone very far, he suddenly caught a fell scent on the air and detected a movement in the trees to their left. He stopped dead, and notched an arrow to his bow. Alarien, lost in thoughts, had noticed nothing and continued walking on until Legolas silently ran up to her and caught her by the wrist.

"Don't move!" He hissed under his breath. She felt her blood run cold as she turned in the direction he was looking, searching the undergrowth to discover what he had seen. Suddenly she saw it, a rustle in the undergrowth. She saw Legolas tense up, his eyes wide and alert, scanning the area where they had seen the movement. As they heard it again, this time closer, Legolas reached over and grasped her arm, pulling her behind him to protect her. Suddenly they heard a movement from behind them and to either side as well. Legolas circled slowly, keeping Alarien close to his side.

"What is it?" She whispered, her mouth close to his ear, her breath warm on his neck.  She was leaning over his shoulder, trying to see into the forest. 

"Orcs. Six at least."

"Can you shoot them first?"

"No, it's too dark: I can't see them yet." She dropped back, and looked over her shoulder. She froze as she saw a large orc sliding out of the trees, bow raised. She placed a shaking hand on Legolas' arm and as he turned round, he saw the orc and before it could loose its own arrow, it fell dead with one in its throat. Four more orcs, hearing the strangled cry of death from their comrade, erupted from the undergrowth. They fell dead before they reached the elves but the sixth remaining orc, still hidden in the undergrowth, took the advantage of his cover. The elf had its back to him and if he moved forward a bit, he would have a clean shot. He slunk out, keeping low to the ground, using the cover of the shadows. As he loosed his arrow, the elf spun round, suddenly aware of his presence and prepared to shoot, but as the orcs own arrow slammed into his shoulder, he gasped in pain and his shot flew wide. Pain racked his body and he slumped to his knees, his hands holding his wound. The orc ran out of the shadow, its short sword held aloft, ready to bring it slashing down on his neck. But it had forgotten about Alarien. She picked up Legolas' fallen bow and silently slotted an arrow to the string. Aiming carefully she let go. The orc fell and hit the ground with a thud, the vibrations shuddering through Legolas' body, already weakened by the poison running through his veins. He fell onto his hands and knees before they gave way and he collapsed onto the ground. He lay there; breathing shallowly and he saw Alarien rushing to his side, crying out bitterly. Kneeling beside him, she lifted his head and laid it in her lap, bending her head over his, smoothing his hair back from his face. He felt her tears dropping onto his face, mingling with his own as they ran down his cheeks, and the last thing he saw was her face before the poison-induced blackness smothered his vision.

Alarien knelt there, her eyes screwed up as she wept. It was all her fault, he had tried to protect her and because of her, he was dead. She placed her hands either side of his face and bent her head to place a kiss on his smooth forehead, already cold and lifeless. She cradled his motionless body in her arms, the tears flowing down her cheeks; she could taste them, salty and bitter on her lips. Suddenly she thought she felt something. But no, she had to be wrong: it was too irregular to be a pulse. She laid his body down and placed her ear on his chest. Hardly daring to believe what she heard, she thought she could make out a faint heartbeat, but it was erratic and hardly detectable. Overjoyed, she contemplated what to do. She had to do something, and quickly, the life was fading out of him fast. She had to get him back to the palace quickly, but how, she could not possibly carry him, and she could not leave him. She contemplated for a moment, then, not able to do anything else, ran back towards the palace after having dragged Legolas' body into the undergrowth. The elves in the stables rushed out when they heard the sound of her cries. Immediately they took in the situation and followed her back to where Legolas was lying, and gently carried him back, speeding him towards the healers. Alarien felt her last strength leave her and one of the stable elves caught as she dropped exhausted to the ground.

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A/N: I can see it all now: people are going to complain that Legolas could easily take out six orcs, but remember, it's dark and there is a lot of shadows and camouflage in the forest, and he's also got to protect her! So no complaints on that front, thanks!


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

Thanks to all those who have reviewed, and this chapter is longer than usual, even so I have been EXTREMELY busy, so please show your appreciation by reviewing!

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For three days now, Legolas had lain in the care of the healers. The poison the orcs used on their arrows was a potent one and required great skill to heal its effects. Luckily, the arrow had not penetrated very deep and though he himself was oblivious to everything, Legolas' body was fighting the poison as much as the healers. Alarien had lain in the room next to him that first night, but she was merely fatigued and she awoke, recovered the next day. Since then she had left Legolas' side only three times, each day she had visited Arwen in her chamber. All day she sat by his side, joined a lot of the time by Thranduil, soothing his fevered brow with a towel soaked in fragrant water, sometimes talking to him, sometimes singing, all the time begging him to wake up. Each night she went dejectedly to her bed, praying that he would awaken the next day. On the fifth day, her prayers were answered.

Sitting by his side as usual, she was singing a lament for him, her pure voice penetrating the darkness that lay on his soul. As she reached out her hand to cool his forehead with the soft towel she saw his eyelids flicker and then open.

Blinking a few times as he opened his eyes, the first thing Legolas saw was her face, smiling and illuminated by the warm sunlight. The vision was so unexpected that he thought he had died. But as he reached up his hand to stroke her cheek he felt smooth soft skin. She put her own hand over his and squeezed it gently.

"You're real," he said weakly. "I thought I was dead."

"Shhh, rest now." She placed her hand on his forehead and, tired by the effort of fighting the poison, he closed his eyes again and went to sleep. She could feel by the coolness of his skin that the fever had passed.

Overjoyed at his awakening Alarien felt all her concern and guilt drift away. He would be all right! Later that day, as she was standing by the window, she heard him move and turning, saw him almost sitting up, resting on his elbows. The covers had slid down revealing his bandaged shoulder and a fair amount of his bare torso, smooth and muscular. He was watching her, a puzzled expression on his face.

"What happened? Why am I here? I don't remember much." Alarien went over to his side and told him of all that had happened since he had lost consciousness, leaving out the fact that he had woken up a few hours earlier, which he seemed to have forgotten.

"You saved my life." Blushing, Alarien realised that she hadn't thought about her part in the slaying of their attackers.

"Yes, but you saved mine, so we are even." She smiled at him and he smiled back. A thoughtful expression crossed his face.

"I remember a bit now: at first you thought I was dead. You were crying and I felt your tears on my face, running into mine." He looked at her, his eyes boring deep into hers. Suddenly uneasy again, Alarien walked back to the window, staring out at the forest that had been the cause of so much anxiety and pain.

"Indeed, I believed you were dead. I was crying because I couldn't bear the thought that you might have died while protecting me." She heard a sudden sharp intake of breath and turned to see him gingerly rubbing his wounded shoulder.

"I…I was trying to flex my arm, but it pains me greatly." He spoke between gritted teeth; his tensed facial muscles slowly easing as the pain subsided. Walking back over to him she told him to lie down and gently unravelled the bandage on his shoulder. The healers had done an amazing job, and the effects of the poison had completely subsided. The pain he felt was due to the fact that the arrow had pierced his muscle. Every morning the healers had come in and changed his bandage, smoothing a soothing balm onto the wound before replacing it. Apart from that, there had been nothing to do but leave nature to run its course, the fever would die down on its own after the medicine they had administered to him the moment they had brought him in took effect. They had allowed Alarien to stay by his side, soothing him in the midst of his fever. She had watched as each day they had examined his wound and now could see the signs that it was healing well. It would leave a small scar, but that could not be helped. Now, she ran her cool fingers over it, examining it for any signs of infection. She could see none and, lifting up his arm, carefully redid the bandage, being careful not to make it too tight. He watched her as she concentrated on wrapping up his arm, the tip of her tongue between her white teeth as she gave it her full attention. Her fingers moved deftly and skilfully, and he enjoyed the feel of them on his bare skin. When she had finished, she stepped back and admired her handiwork. In his eyes she looked tired, and bit drained. Indeed she was, for she had not slept well all the time he had been unconscious, her weighted conscience keeping her awake. Her skin was paler than usual, and her eyes had lost some of their sparkle. He ached to make her smile again, but nothing he could think of to say would have the desired effect. He smiled at her:

"Thank you." She smiled back, but after her initial joy at his awakening, her energy had left her and the smile was strained. She went over to the chair by the window and sat down. Neither said anything, and in the stillness, Alarien felt as though the warm sun was lulling her to sleep. She tried to resist and rested her cheek on her hand, looking out of the window, but gradually her eyelids began to drop and laying her head on the arm that rested on the windowsill, sleep overcame her. Legolas watched her as her fatigue took over, and her quiet rhythmic breathing confirmed that she was asleep. He lay on one side, propped up on his good, right arm, his eyes never leaving her face, peaceful and expressionless. After a while he found that he was immensely hungry and decided that Arwen also looked in need of some refreshment. He wondered where he could get hold of some food.

Taking advantage of the fact that she was asleep, for he knew she would not let him get up, he decided to go and find some for himself. Throwing back the covers, he got out of bed, finding his legs weak and a bit shaky from lack of use. He found he was wearing soft, long blue trousers that he hadn't seen before. Unsteadily at first, but feeling his strength returning even as he walked, he went silently to his chamber, deliberately choosing passages that were rarely used, so as to avoid being seen. Going in, he picked up the bowl of fruit that Falaborn, his attendant, had laid out for him, as he did every day. Not knowing when his master would recover, Falaborn had laid out the fruit for him every day as usual. Taking the whole bowl with him, he returned quickly to his room in the healing wing.

He got back into bed and started to eat, being careful to save some for Arwen. After a while, the afternoon turned to dusk and air coming in through the open window grew cool. Fearing that Arwen, lying underneath it, would grow cold, he silently got up and bending over her sleeping form, pulled the window shut, not noticing her eyes opening. She watched as he went back to his bed, and innocently resumed his eating. She made some suitable waking up noises and watched through her eyelashes as he hurriedly put the bowl of fruit he was eating on the floor and pretended to be asleep, lying on his side with his back to her. With stormy eyes and clenched fists, she marched over to his bed and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him round to face her. He blinked and acted as though he had just woken up, but seeing the annoyed expression she was wearing, he knew that he had been discovered. He sat up and tried not to look guilty. 

"What do you think you are doing getting up?"

"I was hungry and you looked like you wouldn't do any worse for some food. So I went and got some. Besides, I felt like some exercise" He said nonchalantly.

"You…felt like some exercise?"

"Umm…. yes."

"I haven't been sitting by your side all this time, looking after you for you to get up before you are ready just because 'you felt like some exercise'. Do you want to get better?" Her angry face and fiery eyes made her look even more attractive to him than usual. And as she didn't look as though she was going to stop shouting any time soon. There was only one thing for it, and he just couldn't resist it. He reached out, grabbed her hand and pulled her down to sit on the bed beside him.

"What do you think you're…" Before she could carry on talking he gently put a hand either side of her face, drew it to his and kissed her. Shocked and angry, she pulled away almost immediately, her face flushed and her eyes wide. She opened her mouth, but no words came out for several moments.

"What did you do that for?" She said finally. He lay back on his elbows, smiling with amusement at her shocked expression.

"Well, you didn't seem to want to stop yelling." At his teasing words, she hung her head and spoke quietly.

"I was just so worried that's all. I just want you to be better."

"I know." He ran his fingers down her cheek, and she let out a tired sigh.

"Legolas, don't." She got up and went over to the window and stood there trying to clear her head. Silently he got up and followed her. She didn't hear him approach and jumped slightly when she felt him put his hands on her shoulders and turn her round.

"I'm sorry Arwen. I shouldn't have done that." His beautiful blue eyes were suddenly remorseful, concerned. She didn't answer immediately, but finally she spoke. Her face blank and her eyes void of expression.

"I think I should go. If you want to be fully recovered for the competition, I suggest you stay in bed. The healers come in the morning to change your bandage." Without meeting his gaze she turned and almost ran out of the room.

"You don't have to leave." He called after her fleeting figure but she didn't turn back.

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As soon as she had left the room, Alarien began to run, not stopping until she reached her room. She went in and closed the door behind her, slumping against it and sliding down it until she reached the floor. She sat with her knees tucked up by her chin and rested her chin on them. She couldn't believe what had just happened. It had taken every shred of control she possessed not to respond when he had kissed her. What did it mean? She realised that when he was near her, her sense of control diminished. She would have to make a harder effort to avoid him than before, she didn't think she would be able to resist another kiss.

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In his chamber, Legolas was pacing from one side to another. He was not entirely sure he regretted what he had done, he knew that he wouldn't have been able to resist much longer and it would have happened sooner or later, most probably sooner he thought with a wry smile. And there had definitely been something there when he had kissed   her; a brief fraction of a second when she had been about to respond, before that guardedness of hers had kicked in and she had pulled back. Still, it had been nice while it lasted, he thought. Feeling tired by the events of the day, he retreated to his bed and quickly fell asleep.

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Thranduil was overjoyed to hear the news that he son had awoken. Every night when she had gone to bed, unknown to everyone, Thranduil had come down and taken her place by Legolas' side. The knowledge that his son could die had shaken the king greatly. His sons were all he had left since their mother had died. Her name had been Aarien, sun maiden, and she had had been just that. She had loved the sun, and was the most joyful being in the whole of Mirkwood. Whereas Landir took after his father, Legolas was the image of his mother. He had her golden hair and deep blue eyes that changed hue according to his mood. She had been much loved in the kingdom, but one day, as she and Thranduil were out riding together, they had been waylaid by a group of bandits, men from some far off land. They had come upon them undetected and had shot a shower of poisoned arrows at them. Aarien had been struck, but Thranduil escaped without a wound, and after killing their attackers so they could escape, took her almost lifeless body back to the palace. The healers had tried their best, but the poison had already run too deep and she had died. Landir could not remember his mother much; he only had small images of an angelic face singing to him every night as he fell asleep. Legolas remembered her more, being older, but he never mentioned her, keeping the pain of her loss buried deep in his heart. For him, the grief was still too near.

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A/N: Love it? Hate it? Let me know.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

I am going away for a week, so there will be no updates till after then. So I, the nice person I am, will put two chapters up now! Enjoy, and please review! ;o)

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For the next few days, Alarien stayed in her room as much as possible, spending time with Arwen. Occasionally they walked in the gardens, and sometimes, in the very fringe of the forest. Alarien had said nothing of what had happened on the day Legolas had woken up to Arwen, although her friend knew that something was troubling her. But Arwen's nature was not overly inquisitive and she did not pry. She knew that Alarien would tell her if she wished to. Twice, Landir sought her out to go riding with him, and she accepted both times, enjoying the freedom and escape it gave her from her troubles. For four days now she had not seen Legolas. Most of her was glad and pleased at this fact, but some small part was disappointed, when he was near she seemed to feel brighter, more alive. But the majority won her over and she kept to her plan of keeping out of the places where he might be.

*          *          *

It was now only two days until the competition and Legolas had been practising as much as his injured shoulder would allow him to without causing it more harm. He had remained in bed for a few days; to please the healers, but he needed his time and had insisted on being allowed his freedom again. Landir had been surprisingly civil to him recently, although he was obviously pleased that his chances of winning the competition were greatly increased by his brother's injury. Legolas guessed he had been a bit shaken at his near death experience, and he hoped that showed his brother felt some concern for him, however small. The whole business with Arwen was really getting to him. The more time that passed without seeing her, the more he thought about her. He knew she was avoiding him; she had taken to having her meals in her chamber, where he expected she spent most of her time. When she wasn't out riding with his brother, he thought bitterly. He had seen them from a distance the day before, riding on the plains on the other side of the forest. It hurt him more than he was willing to admit to himself that she didn't want to see him, and he contemplated deliberately seeking her out. No, he thought, it would be a bad move for him, the competition was only a few days away and he needed to keep a clear head. His emotions were running amok even now, and he didn't think meeting would solve anything with her; it was liable to make things worse. He resolved to go and find her after the competition had finished.

*          *          *

That night, after they had finished dinner, and Legolas was just leaving the hall, Thranduil called after his son.

"Legolas, I wish to have a quick word with you." He wondered what his father wanted, he had spoken to him only the day before, when Legolas had told him all about the attack on himself and the Arwen in the woods, filling in his description with what she had told him had occurred after he had lost consciousness. Although he had not said much, Legolas knew he was proud of him for trying to protect Arwen before himself. He also knew how relieved Thranduil had been that he had recovered fully; he knew how much he and Landir meant to their father. He waited for his father to catch up and together they walked outside, standing in the courtyard looking up at the stars.

"What is it you wish to talk to me about, father?"

"My son, it appears to me that there is something that troubles you. I have noticed it for a while now. I know that you may not wish to tell me, but I am giving you the chance to do so, if you desire to have my counsel."

Legolas turned away and leaned on a nearby tree. It was several moments before he spoke.

"Yes father, there are several things that trouble me. But mostly, it is just things that I need to sort out by myself." He laughed wryly, "Mainly confused emotions I would have to admit. But it does not bother me so much at the moment. My mind is concentrating on the competition. Do not worry about me father, I can handle it." His father smiled at his son's teasing tone of voice. Putting his hands on his son's shoulders, he became more sincere.

"I am sure you can, Legolas. But I am always available if you need to discuss something."

"I know." He watched as his father turned and walked back into the palace. He remained outside, savouring the cool night air, and listening to the faint voices on the wind. He heard the door to the palace and he turned to see who it was. To his surprise, he found it was Arwen. She had not seen him yet, and he watched as she walked out into the courtyard, humming softly to herself, braiding her long silky hair that she had pulled over one shoulder. Suddenly she saw him and stopped dead, her face going visibly paler, even in the moonlight.

"L-Legolas. I didn't expect to see you out here tonight," she stammered, obviously nervous in his presence. She dropped her braid and it slid back over her shoulder and unravelled.

"I was just talking to my father."

"Yes, I passed him on my way out. I trust you are almost fully recovered now. Landir tells me you have been practising for the competition. How does your shoulder feel?"

"It is almost completely normal again, thank you." As the thread of conversation grew to a close, neither could think of anything else to say, their eyes flitting around, determined not to meet the gaze of the other.

"I'm not sorry for what I did, Arwen." She looked at him, surprised, and a little put out.

"Well you should be. It was not right of you to do what you did." 

"Maybe so, but I still don't regret it and I don't think you do either." He was kicking himself mentally. Why was he getting into this now? What was it he had decided about waiting till after the competition? Alarien likewise was very irritated. She had managed to avoid him completely for days now, and he had ruined it all by appearing out of nowhere and talking about the last thing she wanted to be reminded of right now. It was hard enough keeping in control when he was around. She tried to keep her tone indignant, but she could hear it failing.

"What makes you think that? As I seem to remember, it was you that kissed me, and I pulled back straight away. Don't you think that means something?"

Exasperated and angry at her denial, his handsome face clouded and flushed, he stepped closer to her and spoke.

"Why are you so determined to be guarded towards me? I have seen you with Landir and you are different. I don't hide from what I know is right. Why should you?" With that he turned and stalked away, his lean, athletic figure cutting across the lawn. After a few moments, he heard light, almost inaudible footsteps behind him and felt a soft hand on his arm. He swung round, coming face to face with Arwen. She looked strangely calm: he had expected her to be furious.

"I'm sorry. Maybe you are right." She said quietly before taking his hands, entwining his fingers with her own. She raised up her head and looked straight into his eyes, allowing their gaze to envelope her. Slowly, the distance between their faces decreased and finally, their lips met. This time, she didn't protest or pull away. In her many years, she had never experienced a kiss like this one. It was all at once tender and passionate. She knew she had never felt so alive as when he kissed her, the feel of his soft lips on hers, his tongue exploring her mouth, as though he wanted to know every part of it, sometimes gentle a butterfly, sometimes more passionately, filling her mouth with his sweet taste. It felt like hours had passed when they finally broke apart, breathing quickly, their hearts beating double time. He placed a soft kiss on her forehead before drawing her closer to him, enfolding her in his arms. She allowed herself to relax in the bliss she felt, then suddenly realised with a shock what she was doing. How could she have been so stupid? She broke away from him and stepped back. Without a word, she bolted, running into the palace and not stopping until she reached her room.

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A/N: Love it? Hate it? Let me know.


	11. Chapter11

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

I am going away for a week, so there will be no updates till after then. So I, the nice person I am, will put two chapters up now! Enjoy, and please review! ;o)

Here is the second chapter of the two I was going to post. Hope you all like it! Buy one, get one free!

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Legolas stood where he was, watching her fleeing figure. He wasn't entirely sure if he had dreamed what had just happened or not. No, he could still taste her lips on his own: it had been real. He realised that every nerve in his body was burning, the elation and adrenaline that was pumping through his veins leaving him weak and he leaned once more against the tree. His heart felt so full of love and joy he thought it would burst. He just couldn't get his head around the fact that he had just kissed her, and she had kissed him back. He knew he had never experienced anything as sweet as the feel of her lips on his. It had been as though he had never been fully alive until now.

But why had she run off? Was it because she had let her guard down? Was she afraid of her feelings for him? He was no longer confused about his own emotions. He had never felt something so strong before, and though it frightened him, he knew that it must be love. The thought of living a life without her seemed appalling to him. He smiled despite himself, remembering the kiss, the feel of her so close to him in his arms, her hands in his. She was so beautiful; he didn't know what he had done to be blessed with her. He felt as though there had always been a gap in his life, and she was the only one who could make him fully complete. After enjoying the feel of the cool evening air on his flushed face, he returned to the palace.

*          *          *

In her room, Alarien paced around and around, her hands clenched so much so that her knuckles were white. She circuited again and again, mentally screaming at herself. She had ruined everything. She knew now that what she was feeling towards Legolas was love. Every time he came near her she felt both weakened and yet also somehow more awake and alive. But far from being able to revel in her emotional discovery, she had to somehow find out how to conceal it, or stop herself from feeling it. In that moment of weakness, she had succumbed to the power of his beauty. If Arwen knew…No, Arwen must never know, she thought. Of all the people to fall in love with, why did it have to be him? But she knew why. It was because he was Legolas, and everything about him enchanted her. She had tried to fight it, but she knew it was impossible to try. The only thing to do was make him stop liking her. Maybe, stop loving her? Did he love her? Stop it! Stop thinking about him! But the question was how? She would have to just ignore him and pretend that she thought the kiss had been a mistake. But hurting him would cause pain unto herself and heartache that she was not sure she could bear. Life had taken a tragic turn of events for her, it was almost as if she was being punished for her deceit. She decided she would feign illness the next day and would remain in her room. She didn't think she could face the world at the moment.

*          *          *

Tomorrow was the competition, and both Legolas and Landir had decided to spend the day in practice. Legolas however was troubled. Twice he had gone to visit Arwen in her chamber, and both times she had refused to see him, claiming to not be feeling well. He was not sure if she was actually ill or just didn't want to see him. Her chambermaid seemed equally as baffled at her sudden 'illness', although she didn't actually make a comment. As he loosed off his arrows again and again, his mind kept returning to her, to their last encounter in the courtyard. He imagined that he could still taste her sweetness in his mouth; every part of him longed to see her, talk to her, touch her. But having broken through the barrier she had in place, it seemed like he was back on the wrong side of it. Landir was fortunately oblivious to everything he was thinking and just seemed to assume that Legolas was still musing over the fact that Arwen seemed to want to spend more time with him than with his elder brother, causing him great satisfaction of course. He recalled the conversation that had taken place at breakfast.

"You look troubled, brother. I hope nothing is clouding your concentration for the competition tomorrow. I want to have some kind of challenge to fight against."

"I assure you Landir, I will be on full form to challenge you."

"Well, I have obviously been having various distractions recently, so my practice time has been somewhat shortened. But I do not think that will leave me at a disadvantage, I didn't need much practice anyway."

At least he is unaware of what happened the other night, for I fear that would not do much to make him feel more pleasantly towards me, he thought. He was, however, pleased with the way his practice was going: the arrows were all finding their mark and his speed shooting was greatly improved. He had found out recently that this year he would also be required to fire off five sets of two arrows at a time. This was not something he had ever really learnt and he had been giving it a lot of time. He was now eloquent in the skill and found it quite rewarding to see the two arrows slicing through the air, perfectly parallel, to embed themselves in the centre of the target. He knew that he needed to resolve the situation with Arwen before the competition or he would never be able to concentrate, but how could he see her? She took her meals in her room and he couldn't just walk into her room uninvited. Unless of course, she isn't awake to refuse me entry, he thought. If he was to go in while she was asleep, then wake her up, the most she could do, would be to send him away, but it was more likely that she would admit defeat in the face of such persistence. He resolved to steal into her room late that night and confront her. He felt a peace overcome him as he made up his mind, and he resumed his practice, hearing the thuds of Landir's arrows hitting their targets on the other side of the wall.

*          *          *

Arwen was worried greatly about Alarien. She claimed to be feeling ill, but yet she would not allow the healers to come to her aid, claiming that she only wanted Arwen. There was obviously something troubling her that she wished to hide from, but Arwen could not (and would not) pry and if Alarien didn't want to tell her, then there was nothing much she could do except go along with her and give her counsel when she asked for it.

*          *          *

Alarien herself languished in her bed. She was greatly troubled, more so than Arwen, even with her great perceptiveness had picked up, though she was making a valiant effort to hide it. Being separated from Legolas was hard enough, her whole being longed for him, but knowing that it was self inflicted solitude made the pain greater still. Knowing she was probably hurting him caused her almost physical hurt. She could hear him outside when she wandered down the corridor to stretch her legs, keeping well away from the windows. She could almost feel his presence when she looked out at the forest. It was as if he was a part of everything in Mirkwood. So far, her feelings for him had not diminished, but she hoped that her behaviour was having the desired effect on him. The time spent all day in her chamber felt like and eternity and for one, she was bored. She wanted to get out, but she knew he would find her, seek her out, if she strayed out of her chamber. Only there could she find solitude and safety from her emotions.

After taking a light supper with Arwen, they both retired to bed. For a long time, Alarien didn't sleep. She sat by the window, watching the stars and listening to the faint singing coming from somewhere in the palace. Sometimes she could hear Legolas' voice rising above the others, pure and sweet. After a while, she felt sleep overcoming her and she lay down and fell asleep, her chest rising and falling slightly with her rhythmic breathing.

*          *          *

Several hours after the rest of the household had gone to bed, Legolas was still awake, pacing around his room. Soon, soon it would be time. He was counting the seconds until he would see Arwen again, filling his mind with her vision. Never in his many years had he felt love like he felt for her. It engulfed him like flame, both invigorating and energising. Finally, he felt that he had waited long enough. Like a shadow, he went through the palace, taking the secret passages designed for the safe passage of the royal family, which avoided the guards. After some minutes he emerged in the corridor where her chamber was situated. Silently as a ghost he opened her door and went in.

She lay there, shrouded by the thin curtain around her bed, her dark hair fanned across the pillow, her emerald eyes glazed as she walked the paths of elven dreams. He moved over to where she lay and pulled back the curtain. He stood there for a minute and just watched her sleeping, unable to tear his eyes away. Somehow, in the depths of her sleep, she must have felt his presence, because she began to stir and he watched as she began to wake up. Suddenly realising that he would probably frighten her enough to make her cry out, he covered her mouth with his slender hand. Her eyes cleared immediately and her expression was one of shock, her eyes wide and scared, as they adjusted to the dark she saw who it was and reached up to move his hand away. Sitting up, she hissed,

"Legolas! What are you doing here? Are you mad? It's the middle of the night and I am unwell and need my rest. What do you want?"

"There's…there's something I have to tell you."

"What? Can't it wait?"

"No. I want to tell you that…I love you. I have loved you since I first saw you. If I can't have you, I…I don't know what I'll do." There was no answer from her for some time. She sat with her eyes lowered and he could feel that she was thinking. Her face turned suddenly cold. 

"I'm sorry Legolas. But I…"Before she could finish, he had turned away. Without looking at her, he said in a pained voice,

"You're lying. I know you are."

"I'm not…" He turned to face her.

"Then tell me why you kissed me?" She stared at him, his sapphire eyes burning into hers. She flushed and looked away. He continued. "Tell me you felt nothing in that kiss and I will leave. Now." Still, she did not reply. Finally, wearily, she met his gaze.

"Yes. I felt something. A lot actually." Before she could say anything else he had leaned over and kissed her again, this time it was more passionate and urgent, as though he was trying to show her how much he felt for her. But after a moment, she pulled away, her hand on his chest to push him away. She sighed and looked away,

"Legolas, I can't. We can't. It just can't happen. " Confused, he began to question her but she held up a hand to stop him.

"I think you should leave now. Please, just go." With that, she turned her back on him completely; the small gesture causing him so much pain he could almost feel it physically. Humiliation and hurt swept in a wave over him. 

"I will leave, as you wish." His voice suddenly cold and hard as stone, but his eyes filled with pain, he left the room. But as he reached the door, he turned and sent one final, cutting reply.

"I meant what I said, I cannot deny my own feelings. It surprises me that you can." With that he was gone.

*          *          *

As he returned to his room, Legolas could hardly see, his blue eyes blinded by the bitter tears that threatened to flow if he did not maintain control. He walked quickly, his fists clenched so tightly the knuckles were almost white. Reaching his chamber he went in and shut the door behind him. He walked over to his window and leaned his smooth forehead against the cool stone. He angrily brushed his hand over his eyes, feeling the moisture on his fingers but not acknowledging it. The pain of his rejection had pierced the very core of his being. It was so potent that he found it hard to breathe, and he pushed his pale, silky hair out of his face. He was so confused, she had said she felt something when they had kissed, but she had made it clear, crystal clear he thought bitterly, that she wanted nothing to do with him. What had he done wrong? Nothing, he hadn't done anything wrong. How could it be wrong if it felt so right? He knew she feels the same otherwise she wouldn't be so obviously lying. Absorbed in thought he went over to lie on his bed, stretching out his long-limbed figure. He lay back, cradling his head in his arms, and tried to rest his mind. After a while, sleep overcame him and his eyes closed.

A/N: Love it? Hate it? Let me know.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

Sorry there haven't been any updates for a while, but A levels are presenting me with quite a lot of work. Who would have thought it, hey? :o) Anyways, I have been having writers block on my other story, but I promise that there will be another update on that one soon.

But on with the show! (And it's a nice lone chapter so you lot had better be appreciative! ;oD)

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He awoke the next morning, suffering from lack of sleep. It was the day of the first event and he knew he should have been more sensible and left meeting Arwen till after the competition. When he went down to breakfast, he was surprised to find her there, her slender frame draped in a violet gown with long, flared sleeves, her hair loose and flowing over her shoulders and down her back. His heart leapt at the sight of her, but he quickly pushed the thought of his head. She was engaged in conversation with Landir, but she looked up as she heard him enter. She looked tired and he could see that her eyes were again missing some of their usual sparkle.

He sat at the opposite end of the table and ate his meal in silence, allowing their conversation to wash over him, but not getting involved. He could feel her gaze on him every now and then, but he did not meet it, though it took all the will power he possessed, not to. Landir left before he had finished, he was obviously going to get some last minute practice in before the first event that afternoon. He shot Legolas a distasteful look as he passed him, but that was nothing unusual. A few minutes later, Arwen got up to leave, he stood up as she left, in the usual manner of politeness, expecting her to walk past him, but instead, she stopped and leaning over his shoulder to whisper in his ear, said:

"Meet me in the glade by the spring. We need to talk." Surprised, he barely had time to acknowledge her before she had left, the hem of her gown swinging as she turned through the door. He stared at his food for a few seconds before finishing it, taking his time. He would need the energy, and besides, she could wait for a few minutes. Soon, however, his will power ran out and he got up to leave.

In a few minutes he was in the glade. She was standing with her back to him, watching the stream, but she turned towards as she heard him approach. Neither said anything, and the silence engulfed them. They were totally alone.

Looking into his eyes, Alarien could see the pain in them, and it burned her like a flame to know that it was because of her that they were clouded. She could not keep up this charade; there were things that needed to be said. His voice cut through her thoughts, cold and sharp.

"You wanted to talk. So talk." She raised an eyebrow at his tone, then stepped closer to him.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night. You were right."

"About what?" The tone had changed now, it was still cold, but there was a hint of curiosity, hopefulness?

"I can't deny what I feel."

"What do you feel?" She took a deep breath and turned away again. In a small, quiet voice, she whispered, almost inaudibly:

"I love you." As he heard those three words, Legolas thought his heart would burst. He was filled with joy and happiness, but there was still an element of something unsaid in her voice.

"That's not all though, is it?" He asked, hesitantly. She sighed, "No. I meant what I said. It can't be." Rolling his eyes to the heavens, Legolas turned her round to face him.

"Why?" He asked exasperatedly, "Why can't we be together?" His heart contracted as he saw her eyes flood with pain. She looked down, her eyes looking at the floor.

"I…I can't tell you."

"Arwen, you can't play around with my feelings like this. I told you I loved you, and you told me the same. And yet you say it cannot be? What is the problem? I love you." He stepped closer to her, cupping her face in his hands and tilting it so that her gaze met his before repeating his words. "I love you, Arwen." As she looked at him, Alarien was filled with an almighty conflict of emotions. He was so beautiful, perfect, and he had chosen her! But she couldn't betray Arwen because she had fallen for the beautiful being standing in front of her. She looked away.

"There is only one way."

"Then tell me. I would walk to the ends of the earth for you, the only thing I want is for us to be together." He stepped forward and took her hands in his.

"We must meet only in secret."

"Then so be it." He moved so that there was nothing between them, and bending his head, gently brushed his lips against hers. She sighed and rested her forehead against his. He took her in his arms and laid his head on her shoulder, his face in her hair. He breathed in the fresh scent of flowers that she seemed to radiate, filling his lungs with it. His hands rested on her waist, and the warmth of her skin through her gown made him feel weak. He was so happy he thought that he would explode, he couldn't see how he could possibly contain the love he felt. He was totally at her mercy. She raised her head towards his and he bent towards it and tenderly kissed the corner of her mouth before kissing her fully. She knew that of the three kisses they had shared, this was the most tender, passionate and perfect of them. She could feel his heart beating close to hers, and as they broke apart, she leant her head on his chest. He leaned his head on top of hers and they stood like that for some time, the rays of the sun penetrating through the trees to bathe them in golden light. Suddenly, they heard a voice from the direction of the palace. It was Landir.

"Legolas? Legolas? Where are you?" They could hear sounds of him coming through the woods. Alarien stepped back, away from Legolas, though keeping hold of one of his hands.

"We must separate," she whispered, "we cannot be seen together." Legolas nodded, and watched as she disappeared into the trees. He turned towards the sounds and called to his brother.

"Landir! I am here, what do you want of me?" He saw his brother emerging from the trees in front of him. He had a sour expression on his face and his eyes were bitter.

"Father wishes to see you before the competition begins. I don't know why, he just sent me to find you." Without another word, he turned and walked back the way he came. He had to get away from Legolas before the anger he was trying so hard to conceal overcame him. His elder brother watched him go, leaning comfortably against a tree, apparently lost in thought. Legolas was, indeed, very pensive. He was filled with happiness at the way things had turned out with Arwen, but it hurt him more than he cared to admit, that she was keeping something from him. How could they have a relationship that would be based on trust, if she was hiding things? He sighed. He was reading into it far too much, he should just be happy that they were together. And he certainly was happy. Every time he thought of her, it was as though she was standing before him, so vivid was the image. He could hear her voice, smell her sweet fragrance, and feel her warm hand in his. Smiling, he contemplated the fact that she was his, his own, his true love.

His perfect mouth still drawn into a smile, he walked back to the palace and was just entering the building when he heard the gong for lunch being struck.

Entering the hall, Legolas smiled as he saw Arwen talking with his father.

She turned as she saw him come in and returned his expression, the love she felt clearly visible, until she blushed and looked down. Legolas took the seat opposite her, next to his father, who watched proudly as his son sat down gracefully.

"My son, I want to wish you much luck in the first event today, not that you really need it, eh?" Legolas smiled indulgently at his father's words, and replied with a patient tone in his voice.

"Father, I'm sure I will need it. Winning the competition is never an easy task for anyone. Not even for me." He finished with a raise of his eyebrow. Thranduil laughed.

"Very diplomatic, Legolas. You certainly have the makings of a fine king."

This time it was Legolas who blushed, colour flooding his smooth, marble like face. Alarien smiled inwardly, this was a side to him she had not yet encountered, the humility and sweet modesty at his father's compliments were almost bashful. He caught her eye and smiled, not noticing the fact that his father was watching him.

Thranduil was pleasantly surprised. This was a far different Legolas than the one he had talked to the other day. He had also not failed to see the expression that filled his son's eyes, and it was the same thing that he could see in Arwen's. There was no mistaking it, he could feel it in the air around them: they seemed to emit a glow, an energy that made the very particles in the air vibrate. He was immensely pleased with the way things were going. The match that would certainly be ensured between them would unite Mirkwood infinitely more with Rivendell than ever before, and from what he had gathered from his conversations with her, Arwen would make a fine queen. Yes, Mirkwood would certainly flourish under their reign. He felt a pang of sadness and regret that he would not be there to see it, and a bitterness that he had had to rule alone these many years. But he passed the thought quickly out of his mind and concentrated on trying to perceive the depth of emotions that passed between the two young elves, smiling inside at the tiny, almost undetectable, glances that flew across the table. When the meal finished, Alarien left first and Legolas excused himself a couple of minutes later to prepare for the first event that was taking place that day. It was basic archery, not something he found hard, but he wanted to exercise his shoulder to ensure it would not ache after the event. Thranduil watched his son leave, marvelling at his good fortune. 

*          *          *

Alarien had only got halfway to her chamber before Legolas caught her up. He moved so silently she didn't hear him come up behind her, and jumped slightly as she felt his hands grab her gently round the waist, pulling her out of the main corridor and into a shadowy alcove. Before she could turn round, he had leaned down and whispered in her ear, his breath warm on her skin, before pulling her into a deep kiss. It was breathtaking in its intensity - he seemed to be wordlessly claiming her as his, imprinting the feel of his mouth on her lips, his warmth and strength washing over her in waves. The taste of him was heady; it sent heat and fire pulsing through her body from head to foot. She felt as if she were drowning in him and had no wish to be rescued. When they broke apart, she was breathing unsteadily and didn't feel very secure on her feet. She leant against him as she attempted to calm her rapidly beating heart. He tenderly kissed the top of her head then rested his forehead against hers, looking deep into her eyes. He smiled and then sighed; suddenly remembering where he had been intending to go before the urge to be close to her had overtaken him, took her hand and kissed the palm.

"Now I must go, for I must get my bow, and the competition starts soon. Oh, and by the way, my Lady, who were you intending on supporting?"

"Well, there was one elf I had my eye on." She replied, leaning up to kiss him briefly before turning and walking in the direction of her chamber.

Legolas watched her go, waiting for his own pulse to return to normal before going to his own room. As he walked, he didn't feel like his feet were actually making contact with the floor. He had loved several times in his long life, but never so strongly as now, Arwen was his true love, and his heart was hers to do as she wished with it. Picking up his quiver he made sure that it was full of his own arrows and retrieving his bow from where it lay propped up against the wall, he checked the tautness of the string. It if was not tight enough, the arrows would lose speed and power. Too tight, and it would be difficult to pull back. When he was satisfied that all was in order, he slung both bow and quiver over his shoulder and made his way to the small clearing behind the palace where the competition was being held. The palace staff had been busy that morning, setting up the canopies over the seats of the royal household.  Although the competition did not start for another half-hour, most of the spectators had already congregated. It seemed to Legolas that most of Mirkwood had turned out to watch and indeed they had. The competition was one of the highlights of the year, and not to be missed by anyone. Looking around, he saw the tent where the other competitors were preparing themselves. Landir could be seen, pacing around, his face set and stony. He turned as he saw Legolas enter the tent and flashed him a look of utter disgust. Legolas ignored the look and glanced around at the other competitors. There were many that competed every year, and several of his own friends whom he went over to greet, a smile gracing his face. There was Malgoral, an old friend of his whom he had seen little of recently, Felarond, his second cousin, and Karolas and Garlon, brothers whom he had known almost all of his life.

"Well hello, Legolas. It's been a long time since we saw you. What have you been doing with yourself?" Malgoral's handsome face was smiling as he saw Legolas approach. The prince returned his expression.

"I have been busy entertaining our guest." His eyes glazing over as he thought of Arwen, and Legolas could not help but smile as he remembered how he had been 'entertaining' the guest. He flushed as he saw his friends looking quizzically at him then laughed. "What?"

"Nothing. You just had an odd expression on your face." Felarond's eyebrow was arched in question as he looked at the prince, but he didn't wish to pry any further and with a look at the others that clearly stated 'change the subject', they dropped into easy conversation. From over his friends' shoulders, Legolas could see Gilendil, his main competitor along with Landir. He competed every year, but had never won. He was a stranger to these parts and no one really knew much about him. He was tall and well built, with a dark complexion and almost black hair. His eyes were an odd shade of brown, almost orange, with lighter flecks in the centre. The other competitors looked him upon with a kind of fearful respect, for he hardly ever spoke, except when directly questioned. Legolas, however, did not fear him. Indeed, in his opinion, all of the competitors were worthy winners, and in the end, the best elf would win.

A/N: Opinions please!


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: Anything you don't recognise is mine and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: If anywhere in the story it says 'Arterial' instead of Alarien, then it's just because I clicked on the wrong thing in my spell check, because I when I pasted it into a new html file from word I had to go through it and re-format it which was sooooooo boring, and so maybe I made some mistakes!

Thanks to all those who have reviewed so far and please keep on doing so! It's so nice to get feedback.

Lady Alarien- that's cool you have the same name as my character! Originally, she was called Alatariel, which is one of Galadriel's other names, but I didn't think it worked, so I changed it a bit to Alarien! And yes, Arwen does come from Rivendell, but her mother, Celebrian, was the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, and so Arwen spent many years with her grandparents in Lothlórien. It makes sense that she would spend many years there at a time, as elves are immortal, and therefore have a lot of time to kill!

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Inside the tent, Legolas was waiting patiently for his turn. It had transpired that he had been put near to the bottom of the list of competitors, just before Landir. He pondered on the reason for this, but finally settled on coincidence. Nobody else was aware of the competition between them. Gilendil was currently leading, followed by Felarond and Malgoral, and had obtained an almost perfect score, though he had lost some points for technique. Hearing loud cheering and clapping, Legolas assumed that Karolas had taken his turn and was returning to the tent. As he saw his friend enter the tent, he noted quickly the disappointment on his face. He smiled as he saw Legolas and wished him good luck, and at that moment, Legolas heard his name being announced. He picked up his bow and quiver and walked out of the tent, amid loud cheering and applause. Shutting out everything but the target from his mind, he took up his stance behind the line and notched an arrow to the string. When given the instruction, he let it fly.

Alarien watched him attentively from her seat with Thranduil under the canopy. She saw how he shot as though the bow was merely an extension of his arm, and the fluid and swift gracefulness with which he performed each stage of the event. He achieved a perfect score for both technique and accuracy, and she felt her heart swell as she saw the pleasure on his handsome face. She stood up and called his name along with the others, clapping so hard that her hands hurt.

Thranduil watched her out of the corner of his eye, noting the enthusiasm with which she was now applauding his son, and the attentiveness with which she had sat, perched on the edge of her seat, as he had been shooting. He smiled; there was an innocence about the couple that was both endearing and painful to him. He was delighted that his son was so happy, but it reminded him clearly of himself and his own love, Aarien. He quickly expelled the thought from his mind and concentrated on basking in the success of his elder son. He too applauded loudly and smiled proudly down at his son as he walked over to bow to the royal household, as was customary for all the competitors. As he straightened up, Legolas caught a glimpse of Arwen, a smile gracing her fair face. He could not help but smile back and he saw the pleasure sparkling in her emerald green eyes as she realised he was looking at her. He turned and walked quickly back to the tent and almost collided with Landir coming out, his face darkening as he saw Legolas, and he spat out:

"I might not be able to beat a perfect score, brother, but I can certainly equal it!" With that he stepped around his elder brother and went out into the clearing, amid the cheering. Legolas sighed; it was just typical of Landir to ruin the elation he had been feeling, well, he wouldn't let anything spoil his mood, and he took a seat next to his friends and waited for Landir to finish.

Several minutes later Landir stalked into the tent, a smug expression on his face at having achieved what he had intended. He and Legolas were now tied in first place. He didn't say anything in front of the others, but it was clear to Legolas from his expression what he was feeling. The competitors began to pick up their equipment and leave the tent, and as Legolas was leaving, he felt a sharp tug on his bad shoulder, eliciting a gasp of pain as the hand squeezed his wound. He turned to face his younger brother who had a nasty smile on his face.

"Weren't expecting that, were you, brother? Well, you should not be expecting an easy victory this year."

"Landir, I never expect an easy victory. It is my opinion that the best elf will win, be it you, or I, or another. Now, if you'll excuse me…" With that he stepped around his brother and walked out of the tent, leaving Landir fuming at his retreating back.

"Why, Landir!" He spun round as he heard the melodious voice say his name, and saw Arwen standing in the other entrance to the tent. He smiled as he beheld her, the sun shining in her hair and on her skin, so that she almost glowed. Alarien smiled back, her initial disappointment at not finding Legolas not replaced, but momentarily substituted by a need to congratulate her friend on his performance. She came further into the tent and held out her hand for him to kiss. He did so softly, brushing her skin with his lips. 

"I must congratulate you, tied in first place with your brother, you must be pleased!" Not realising her poor choice of words, regarding the jealously Landir harboured for his brother, she did not see the flash of distaste that passed over his face, before being quickly subdued. He managed to smile, though it was not quite a true smile, and replied:

"Indeed, I am…very pleased." She looked around the tent.

"I see the other competitors have already left, it must have been an annoyance to go last." She looked back and realised with surprise that he was studying her face. She felt herself flush, and felt him run his fingers gently across her cheek.

"It has been a while since we talked, has it not?" He asked, his blue-grey eyes regarding her.

"Yes, it has been several days, I believe."

"We must not let so much time pass between our conversations, my Lady."

"No, indeed." She raised her glance from where it had been focussed on the floor and saw he had moved away and was standing by the entrance to the tent.

"The hour grows late, will you allow me to escort you back?" Pleased to be going somewhere other than the solitary tent, she smiled and accepted the arm he offered her. Together, they walked back, Landir deliberately keeping the pace slow so as to make the journey as long as possible. Having her by his side felt so right, with her arm in his, her fingers resting lightly on his skin. When she was near him, he found himself feeling enlightened, as though every nerve was alight. He was wondering what these feelings meant when he realised with disappointment that they had reached the palace. As they parted, he took her hand again, and placed his own over hers, so that it was sealed between both of his. 

"It gives me great pleasure to know that I have your support, my Lady."

With that, he bowed and walked away. Alarien watched him leave, a distinct relief flooding her. The way he had been looking at her had made her feel ill at ease, and she was almost pleased when they had parted. It was not that she did not like Landir, for she did, but she knew from the way her heart felt so full of love, that there was no room in it for anyone but Legolas.

From his balcony, Legolas had watched his brother and Arwen return to the palace, arm in arm. Quelling the jealously that flared up in him, he tried not to think about the way Landir had taken her hand, and the way he had been looking at her. He realised with shock that his initial fears were almost certainly true; his brother too had fallen for Arwen. Legolas knew that he could never let her go, and that he would fight for her, even against his own brother, so passionate and all consuming was the emotion that flowed through his veins. _I would lay down my life for her_, he thought, _because to live without her would mean death anyway_. His instincts had been confirmed, Legolas had never felt so much at the mercy of another, and it frightened him, he had never before felt so vulnerable, and he realised it was because he had never really loved before, until now.

Bringing himself back to the moment, Legolas pondered over the fact that there were a few days before the next event, and wondered how he would spend his time with her. There were so many things to tell her, so many things he wanted to make clear to her, but there was hardly anywhere in the palace that they could be alone. Suddenly a thought came to him, and he wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. He quickly began to make plans in his head, smiling at the thought.

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A/N: Please review and give me your opinions!


	14. Author's Note

A/N: This is just a note to say that I am going away for a month where I will most likely not be able to get on the net, so unfortunately, there will not be any updates until I get back. But then, it will give me lots of time to write many more chapters!

Thanks!

Mythrandiel :oD


	15. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: Everything you don't recognise is mine, and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: Well, I am back and here is another update for all of you who are following this story and enjoying it. I have had time to write much more, so look out for an update soon! Thanks also to those who have reviewed!

Please review and tell me your thoughts, and flame if you must, though constructive criticism is always more welcome!

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Alarien lay awake for some time before falling asleep that night, her mind full of thought that she couldn't expel. The more time she spent with Legolas, the more love she felt for him, but also, the more deceitful. She couldn't bear the fact that she had to lie to him about her true identity, but the situation had gone to far to turn back now, and too much was at stake. If her secret was discovered, both she and Arwen would be disgraced, and Legolas would surely never want to speak to her again. The thought was so painful to her that she shook her head to try and get it out, but it still played in the back of her mind. To lose him now, when she felt so much for him, would be to lose a part of herself. Dragging her mind back into control she tried to relax and enjoy the present. There was time now to spend time with him, talk with him, be with him. It surprised her how much she longed for him even now, when she had only seen him a few hours previously. She smiled as she remembered his performance in the competition and how proud she had felt that he was hers, that the beautiful being had chosen her. She lay back and fell asleep with an image of him in her mind and a smile playing on her lips.

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She awoke refreshed the next morning earlier than usual, the morning air was crisp and looking out of the window she could see dew still sparkling on the grass. She wondered why she had woken up so early, she didn't usually. She got dressed quickly into a deep purple gown with lavender coloured stitching. Quickly running a brush through her long hair, she suddenly found herself eager to be outside on this cool, sunny morning. She hurriedly slipped her feet into the soft lilac slippers that lay beside the chair. She was still braiding her hair when she opened her door to leave and was pulling it shut when she felt her foot touch something. She looked down to see a pale pink rose with a note tied around the stem. She picked it up, noting the fact that whoever had left it there had taken time to remove the thorns from the stem. She inhaled the fresh scent with a smile then untied the note. In a slanting and graceful yet compact script she read "Meet me in the stables". She laughed quietly to herself, what game was he playing now. The thought that it could have been anyone but Legolas never crossed her mind, and, running noiselessly down the corridor she made her way towards the stables.

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Legolas had risen even earlier than Alarien that morning, and had made his way through the palace to her room whilst it was still half-dark outside. After delivering his invitation he had gone straight to the stables, savouring the silence of his surroundings. Once inside he had gone to his horse Ninniach moonlight, a present from his father a few years ago. Ninniach was a beautiful beast, his coat was a dappled silvery grey and his silky mane was pure white. Gently stroking the horse's nose Legolas had whispered his plans into Ninniach's ear, and was rewarded with a whinny of approval. Legolas laughed and began brushing him down. When he had finished he walked through to the other end of the stable and opened the stall of another horse, Alfirin small golden flower. She was another beautiful specimen, with a shining golden coat. On her head was a white star and there were white patches above her hooves. Like Ninniach, her mane and tail were also a snowy white. She tossed her head as Legolas entered her stall, and nuzzled the hand he held out to her in greeting. Soon she too was brushed down and ready. Now all he had to do was wait for Arwen. Outside, the day was still cool but the sky was light and the sun was shining brightly, slowly beginning to warm the air around him.

When Alarien reached the stables she saw Legolas standing with his back to her combing the mane of a beautiful golden horse. Silently she crept up behind him, hoping to startle him, but she was still a few feet away when he turned round and saw her. His perfectly sculpted mouth curved into a smile and he quickly took away the distance remaining between them in two paces. Taking her hand, he led her over to Alfirin and introduced them. 

"Alfirin, I'd like you to meet someone. This is Arwen." Alarien giggled and reached up to stroke the horse's nose.

"Legolas, she's beautiful! And such a strange colour! Never have I seen a horse of this colour."

"No, I wouldn't have thought you would have. She is of a special kind that is found only in the Mirkwood region." Patting Alfirin's flank, he moved away and led her to Ninniach. Seeing the beautiful elf-maiden approaching him, Ninniach blew through his nostrils and tossed his head. When Alarien kissed him on the nose, he whinnied in delight and nuzzled her hand. Legolas laughed:

"I think he likes you! Ninniach was a present from my father some years ago. We are very great friends, he knows all of my secrets." Alarien raised her eyebrows in mock concern, masking the guilt she felt at the mention of secrets.

"So you have secrets, Prince of Mirkwood?" He leant over and kissed her lightly on her nose.

"Oh, many. Now, we must get going, we have some distance to travel today." Alarien looked confused.

"I don't understand, where are we going?"

"Ah, well, that's one of my secrets. You'll just have to wait and see when we get there. Come on!" He gently lifted her by the waist and placed her atop of Alfirin.

"But people will wonder where I am!"

"All taken care of. I left a note for my servant Falaborn; it will be his belief that I am taking you on a tour of Mirkwood and its outlying regions." With his natural grace, he leapt lightly onto Ninniach's back and moved out of the door. Without a command, Alfirin followed and Alarien marvelled at the smoothness of the horse's gait, she hardly felt as though she was moving. She noticed Ninniach had several bags hanging off either side, and that Legolas had not neglected to take his bow and a full quiver of arrows. She shuddered, remembering the last time she had seen them in their deadly use. The attack was still as fresh in her mind as if it had been yesterday and she harboured a deep fear of a recurrence of the event, after all, it had happened twice already. Legolas turned and smiled at her as they reached the open ground, and she felt her fears drift away. Once out in the open, both horses broke into a gallop, Ninniach slightly ahead, leading the way.

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They had been riding steadily for around two hours now and had left the main region of Mirkwood behind. Alarien was still enjoying the feel of being out in the sun with the wind flying through her hair, making it stream backwards like a banner. She watched Legolas in front of her. He was, like her, a natural rider and seemed to move in synchronisation with the animal beneath him. He too was enjoying the journey, the pleasure he usually felt at riding greatly increased by his present company. The journey so far had passed in relative silence, although occasionally Arwen had begun a song, and he had joined in, their melodious voices linking together in beautiful harmonies. He realised with a pang of pain that there was still an element of sadness in her voice, although barely detectable, and it hurt him to know that she was holding back. He ached to smooth out her sadness and erase the pain, but he knew she would have to come to him; it was not his place to pry. He concentrated on enjoying what was left of the ride; they were nearly at their destination, although to all appearances, there was nothing in front of them except flat plains for miles around.

Alarien was somewhat confused. A few minutes ago, Legolas had informed her that they would soon reach the end of their journey, but she could not see anything around her except flat planes of green grass waving gently in the breeze, a verdant undulating carpet. She continued to look around her then suddenly noticed a rough track crossing horizontally across the horizon. There seemed to be a slight shadow up ahead too, and she pressed Alfirin forward, drawing level with Legolas, in order to see better what it was in front of them. They met the path and turned down it, and Alarien noticed the ground had begun to slope downwards, gently at first, but growing in steepness. Her confusion grew when she saw that it appeared they had reached a dead-end, the path looked as through it led to a wall of rock, the level of the plane high above. But as they reached the end, she noticed that it turned sharply to the left, the path pointing back to the horizon. They followed the path round the corner, and then around another left-hand bend so they were now parallel with the horizon. As they turned this last corner, she gasped in wonder at the view before her, drawing Alfirin to a halt.

It was a dolentum, a 'hidden valley'. From the level of the plane it could not be seen; perspective lending it a cloak of invisibility. Unless one rode ride up to it, its presence would go entirely unnoticed. They were usually river valleys, centuries lending the river time to cut so deep into the ground. This one in particular was young, and not so deep. Its walls were around five hundred feet high. The young river was narrow, only around seventy-five feet wide, and its sparkling cleanness reflected the blue of the sky, so that it appeared there was another world shining below the surface. Several streams branched off the main river and flowed off out of sight into the woods around the river that filled the valley floor. There were the sounds of birds and animals, and an aura of peace that Alarien could only liken to that of Lothlórien, its borders protected from evil by the most potent and powerful ancient magic. The woods were beautiful, equal to the autumn beauty of her beloved home. The many varieties of trees were unlike any she had seen before, their very shapes and colours strange and foreign, but all beautiful. Legolas watched her, seeing the amazement with which she was taking in her surroundings. Although it was a familiar place to him, he never failed to appreciate its simple beauty. It had been a long time since he had journeyed to this place, and he breathed in the clean, woody scent of the forest, enjoying the feeling of peace it brought to him.

He dismounted and turned to see Arwen had done the same. He went over to her and took her hand in his, entwining their fingers together.

"What do you think?" he asked, although he knew the answer already. She breathed in deeply, and sighed, the scent of the woods bringing back potent images of her home.

"Its beautiful, Legolas, just beautiful." He smiled at her words; he had known she would appreciate this place.

"Then it is only right that you should be here. Beauty resides with beauty, such is the way of nature." He laughed lightly at the colour flooding her cheeks at his words. He let go of her hand and walked over to Ninniach, whispering something in his silvery ear. Turning back, he noticed her eyebrow arched questioningly.

"Ninniach is familiar with this place, he will roam with Alfirin, but they will come when we call them." He took the packs from Ninniach's back and slung them over his shoulder. "Now, are you hungry?" She nodded, she hadn't realised it before, but suddenly she felt ravenous. Linking hands again, they set off into the woods, Alarien continually craning her head this way and that to look around at the beauty of the place. She wondered where exactly where they were going, but Legolas seemed know exactly where he was leading them, so she walked leisurely along beside him, looking over at him every now and then to revel in his beauty. His silky golden hair, braided down the middle and at either side, shone in the sun, looking as though it was made of light itself. His blue eyes met hers and she lost herself in their ocean like depths, their gaze caressing hers. His perfect mouth curved into a warm smile and he pulled her closer, snaking his arm around her waist. She moved closer into his embrace and laid her hand on top of his as it gently stroked the curve of her waist. She was still looking up at him when he stopped. She turned to follow his gaze and quickly drew in her breath. If she had thought the woods were beautiful, then there just wasn't a word to describe the place they were in now. They had entered a small clearing, surrounded by strangely shaped trees, with long, thin branches with slender leaves that drooped all the way to the ground, creating a thin curtain of green. At one end of the clearing a small stream flowed, forming a large, still pool in the centre, the water clean and sparkling. The floor was dotted with small, lilac, pink, blue and yellow flowers with four petals, and the grass was green and lush. Alarien walked over to one of the trees and ran a slender branch through her fingers.

"These trees, such an odd shape. What are they?" She questioned.

"They are niatatharea weeping willows. They are not commonly found anywhere except here. Many rare species can be found in this valley, there is much ancient magic in this place." He looked contemplatively around himself for a moment then slung the pack from off his shoulder and laid it on the ground. "Shall we eat?" She nodded vigorously and watched as he unpacked the bags that he had been carrying over his shoulder. There was all manner of food and she felt her appetite growing as she saw it being laid out. "There. Your table awaits, my Lady!" She laughed at his words and sat down next to him on the cool grass. For a while, neither spoke, and eventually their hungers and thirsts were satiated. Feeling a bit full, Legolas lay back on the soft forest floor and looked up at the almost clear blue sky, the never-ending ceiling dotted here and there with a fluffy white cloud. He raised his head as he felt a tugging on his sleeve. Arwen was looking at him with the expression of an impatient child. He laughed and sat up, raising an eyebrow expectantly. She took his hand and gently pulled him to his feet.

"Don't start getting comfortable, I want to explore!" He allowed himself to be dragged away by her impatient hand, and finally succumbed, falling into pace beside her.

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A/N: So there you go, hope it was worth the wait. There will be fluff in a chapter or two so look out for the next updates!


	16. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: Everything you don't recognise is mine, and everything else belongs to Tolkien.

A/N: Sorry this was so long coming, but more important things such as exams have been on my mind. Hope it was worth the wait!

Please review and tell me your thoughts, and flame if you must, though constructive criticism is always more welcome!

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Although it seemed like minutes, hours passed as they wandered through the valley, talking, laughing, kissing, sometimes singing, and sometimes just enjoying each other's company. Legolas found himself unable to take his eyes off her as she danced along beside him, often grabbing his hand to drag him off to look at something more closely. It was late afternoon by the time they reached the clearing again. Alarien was feeling wearied by the day's exertions and she sat down thankfully in the soft grass. She ran her hands over the green carpet and began absent-mindedly picking some of the flowers within reach and skilfully weaving them into her hair. Legolas had gone over to the pool to drink, and she watched as he crouched down at the water's edge, his slender hands cupped as he lifted the water to his mouth. An evil thought entered her mind as she saw how close to the edge of the pool he was kneeling. Silently she crept up behind him and, with a gentle push, sent him toppling with a splash into the water. He surfaced a moment later looking very unimpressed, soaking wet; his hair across his face and his clothes dripping. She collapsed laughing on the ground, her body shaking with the power of her laughs. She could feel the tears running down her cheeks as she laughed, unable to stop. Blind as she was in her laughter, she didn't see him sneak up and grab her round the waist. She screamed in protest, knowing what he was going to do, wriggling violently in an attempt to escape. But his grip was strong and a moment later it was her surfacing from the water, hair unkempt and bedraggled and lying across her eyes. She pushed it away and tried to climb out but the bank was slippery and she fell back in, amid peals of Legolas's melodious laughter. As she surfaced for a second time, she glared at him, annoyed at how her little joke had back fired, and snarled at him, 

"Well, are you going to help me out or not?" He extended a hand and pulled her easily out of the water, despite the weight of her sopping wet gown. But as he pulled, he slipped again on the wet grass and fell backwards, pulling her back with him. She pinned him down, her hands holding his wrists,

"That was mean." She said, and he smiled innocently back at her.

"Well, you started it." She smiled back: he had a point. She released his wrists and rolled over him to lie next to him on her back, her wet head resting on his chest. Neither of them said anything for a while, content just to lie there in silence. Not realising how tired she felt, Alarien found herself closing her eyes, Legolas shortly following suit. 

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"Oh Elbereth! Look how late it is!" Alarmed by his sudden outburst, Alarien looked up into the sky. Dusk had well and truly fallen, and the faintest glimmers of stars could be seen. She realised that they would not get back before dark, and the forests of Mirkwood, were, as she knew from bitter experience, not safe at night.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, concern filling her green eyes. Seeing that he had frightened her, Legolas sat down beside her and drew her to him. He thought through their options in his mind. They could either stay the night in the valley and return as soon as possible the next day, though causing much concern back at the palace in the meantime, or try to return that night, risking the forests at night. He knew that there wasn't really any choice, he would not risk Arwen's safety, and his own, by trying to return that night. They would be safe in the valley; evil could not enter there. He looked down into her worried face and ran his fingers across her furrowed brow, smoothing out the lines.

"We will stay here for the night. We will be safe here and we can return in the morning. Do not worry yourself, all will be well." She relaxed against him and he could feel the beating of her heart next to his, the closeness making him feel ever more protective of her, and he drew her closer, resting his cheek against the top of her head. It was then that he realised he was still damp and, in the early evening air, he was also cold. He remembered he had packed some blankets and his cloak in one of the bags and he got up and went over to where he had left them. He knew that the best thing to do would be to take off his wet clothes and replace them with a dry blanket. He started to unbutton his tunic and felt her gaze upon him.

"What are you doing?" Came her voice from behind him. He took off his tunic and turned to face her, his torso gleaming in the golden light of the sunset. Alarien gazed in wonder at his perfectly unblemished skin, and the muscles flexing beneath the skin as he bent down to take off his boots. Realising he was about to take off his trousers, she lay back down, resisting the urge to continue looking at him. She looked up at the ever-brightening stars and jumped slightly as her view was suddenly blocked by Legolas's marble like face. He was standing over her, his torso still bare, but the rest of him wrapped in a blanket.

"You should do the same, or you will get cold." He smiled wickedly at her. "Don't worry, I won't look!" She stuck the tip of her tongue out at him and took the blanket and cloak he held out to her. He lay back down on the grass, leaning on his elbows, watching as she walked a short distance away. She started to unlace her gown, reaching up to do the tighter, higher strands. Suddenly she felt another pair of hands taking over, and she turned round to face him, a teasingly disapproving look in her eye.

"I thought you weren't going to look?"

"I wasn't, I was just… helping." She gave him another look, but he did not leave. Instead he carried on unlacing her gown until it hung loose at the back, just balancing on her shoulders. He gently reached up his hands and slid the material off her shoulders, turning her round and leaning down to kiss her as he did so. His hands lifted and entwined in her hair, pulling her closer so he could kiss her more deeply.

She could feel his hard body pressing against her through the damp material of her under-dress, enjoying the way his muscles flexed as she ran her hands lightly across his back. She felt a sudden pang of desire and reached up to cup his face, pushing her tongue deeper into his mouth, dancing teasingly around its warm recesses. She could taste his sweetness; it was like drowning in beauty, but she knew she didn't ever want to be rescued. He groaned with suppressed desire and, releasing his hands from her hair, he lifted her up and laid her gently on the soft grass. She reached for him and he bent his head to plant feather light kisses and licks across her face, neck and shoulders, before finally returning to her mouth. Her hands ran across his chest and down his taut stomach, stopping at the level of the blanket. He could felt the warm tightness in his groin and he gazed in wonder at the beauty of the creature before him. In the now silvery light, she appeared almost luminescent. She in turn gazed at him, hardly daring to believe that the being filling her gaze was real, so divine was his beauty. His fair head almost appeared to have a halo of light as his hair gleamed in the moonlight, lending him an ethereal quality. His smooth chest was lithe and toned, and as she ran a hand across it, she watched the muscles contract at her touch. Before she could meet his gaze again, Legolas was upon her, his mouth wreaking havoc on her senses.

"Show me…show me how you feel, Legolas." She whispered as he broke away, both of them breathing heavily from the lack of air. He smiled as he ran his fingertips over her face, supporting his weight on his elbows.

"You are sure? You want this?" He asked gently and she nodded, smiling up at him, her eyes dark. 

"Yes." And with that, she reached for him, pulling him into a kiss that created a passion that neither could have had the power to stop, whether they had wanted to, or not. With hands and mouths and sweet words they caressed each other, touching each other wonderingly, as though they couldn't believe the other was there, and discovering the heights of pleasure that they could find within the other. And when it finally happened, he spoke soft words of love in her ear, and the new feeling of joint pleasure was one so intense that neither could hold it in, and they each found their own release together, crying out in bliss as they reached that point where the stars burst before their eyes and they tumbled into sweet oblivion.

Legolas' thoughts were reeling as he struggled to regain control of his mind. The intensity of what he was feeling was overwhelming; it was as though every nerve in his body was alive with the emotion that was flooding through him. He looked over at her and the sight of her flushed face, her eyes closed, still coming down from that heavenly plane, was enough to send tremors through his body.

When she opened her eyes again, Alarien found they were immediately captured by the presently sky-blue ones that shone in the face of the elf she loved. She smiled gently and, wrapping her arms around his trembling body, whispered in his ear.

"Love me forever, Legolas. Never let me go." He kissed her hard before taking hold of her face in both hands, and gazing deeply into her eyes.

"Forever, my love. I'll never let you go." With the taste of her still on his lips, and beautiful thoughts in his head, he relinquished his mind to the exhaustion that now washed over him, and sank into nothingness.

Sometime during the night, they both awoke and made love again in the moonlight, revelling in the feel of each other's body and the feeling of closeness that was so strong, it was as though they were fusing together not only body, but soul as well.

*          *          *

When she awoke the next morning, the memory of the previous night was still fresh in Alarien's mind. The vision of Legolas's naked body, gleaming in the moonlight, his perfect beauty looking as close to divine and ethereal as was possible, was one she knew she would never forget. She remembered how he had looked into her eyes and promised her forever, she knew that she had to tell him her secret, it was just a matter of finding the right moment. She gazed at his sleeping face, his features relaxed and innocent. She enjoyed the feel of their bodies still entwined together, their skin still touching, and she felt a shiver of pleasure run through her. She closed her eyes and sighed with happiness, opening her eyes to find a pair of blue ones looking into hers. She smiled, her face lighting up as he returned it.

"I can't believe I'm waking up next to you." He said softly.

"Me neither. I never want this moment to end." He smiled at her words then leaned across to capture her mouth in a tender kiss.

After they broke away, Alarien leaned her head against his shoulder. For a moment she was still, then he felt her tremble. Legolas bent his head to look into her face,

"What is it?" He enquired gently, she looked up at him, and her eyes shone with tears.

"I'm just so happy." He smiled tenderly and held her to him once more as they lay back and just enjoyed the feeling of closeness and being together. After a while Legolas got up and helped her to her feet. He cupped her face in his hands and kissed her forehead before saying:

"Much as I hate to leave this place, and the memories it will now hold for me, we must make our way back." He pulled his clothes on quickly then ran off to call the horses. She watched him go, huddled under the blanket for warmth in the crisp morning air, before putting on her own clothes, emotions flooding her thoughts. She had to tell him, but she didn't want to hurt him. _Well_, she thought, _I can't avoid that, but the sooner, the better_. Drawing to a mental conclusion, she vowed to herself that as soon as she got back, she would tell Arwen everything. She leaned against a tree and watched her reflection in the mirror-like surface of the pool. She lazily started combing her hair with her fingers and drifted into a silent reverie, looking at the fluffy white clouds chasing each other slowly across the blue sky. She jumped slightly when she felt a hand on her shoulder, and turned to see Legolas smiling at her. She laughed.

"You are the truest elf I ever met. You move more silently than the air flows!" He laughed lightly in return, and led her to where the horses stood, Ninniach already laden with the considerably lighter bags. They greeted the approaching elves with soft neighs, and as Alarien reached Alfirin the horse gently nuzzled her hair with her velvety nose. She giggled as the horse blew warm, sweet-smelling air into her hair and stroked her snowy mane. She allowed Legolas to pick her up and lightly place her atop the horse before jumping up onto Ninniach's back. Within minutes they were well on their way and leaving the dolentum behind them and approaching the level of the plane.

*          *          *

A/N: Hope you all enjoyed the fluffiness!


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